


Down by the Schoolyard

by avengersasssemble



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Elementary School, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Kindergarten & Pre-school, Alternate Universe - Middle School, Angst, Babyvengers, Coming Out, F/M, Fluff, Growing Up Together, Hospitals, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kid Fic, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Playing House, Pre-K, Protective Steve Rogers, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-04-01 11:38:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13997496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avengersasssemble/pseuds/avengersasssemble
Summary: It's Tony's first day of preschool in Miss Hill's class; Or, snapshots of growing up together.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd. Comments and kudos are really appreciated. Ask me questions over @avengersasssemble on tumblr.com.

He was used to tall, looming buildings. The cityscape was his playground, and between the mansion and Father’s workplace, very tall buildings no longer made him feel afraid. However, seeing the one-floor schoolhouse and the various gaggles of other kids in front of him, Tony inched closer to his Mother’s skirt, grasping at the silky material and attempting to hide behind it.

“Anthony,” his Mother chided softly, laughter evident in her tone of voice, “No need to be afraid. They are going to love you, darling.”

Tony didn’t make a sound; he merely let his Mother take his hand and peel him off of her skirt, forcing him to shift his backpack on his tiny shoulders. Slowly, he followed her into the schoolhouse, staring down at his new shiny dress shoes instead of looking around. Father always hated that he tended to be shy in new situations, but the noise surrounding him was overwhelming, and he didn’t exactly want to be left there. Especially not by himself.

“Anthony?”

Looking up at his Mother, she smiled warmly down at him, squeezing his hand comfortingly.

“We’re here,” she said softly, leading him into one of the classrooms, “Why don’t you look around and meet some of the other children, darling? I need to talk to your teacher for a minute.”

Tony wanted to be stubborn and remain by her side, but he knew what the tired lines under her eyes meant, so he nodded and let go of her hand, so she could go over to the front of the classroom. Looking around, he was entranced by the colors of the room; numbers and letters were strung up in their respective orders across the walls, with posters of what Tony figured were times tables and some basic English. He was already fairly advanced for being almost three years old, so he ignored the call to investigate, instead turning his attention to the other older children already in the room.

An extremely loud blond boy was yakking off the ear of a small redhead in the corner, seemingly uncaring that she was clearly ignoring him in favor of playing with her dollies. Nearby, a boy with shaggy brown hair and a kid with a gap between his front teeth were trying to join in, adding sound effects as they tromped their dinosaur figures through the dollhouse. Tony tilted his head at that; dinosaurs didn’t belong in houses, did they?

He shook the thought from his head and turned to look at a small boy tucked away in a beanbag chair in the corner, large circular glasses almost dwarfing his face. He was quietly reading a book that Tony couldn’t quite make out the name of, but since the print was small, he figured that the boy was pretty smart since he could read lots of small letters. Tony wanted to go over and join him, since he, too, could read lots of small letters, but one of the larger boys with long, blond hair tied back into a ponytail went over first, so Tony stopped his feet and stood still.

“Hi.”

The voice close to his left ear made Tony jump and squeak in surprise, clapping his hands over his mouth to try and stuff the noise back in. He turned, having to look up at the boy who scared him. No bigger than a popsicle stick—at least, in Tony’s mind—the boy had blond hair that fell into his eyes, causing him to constantly brush it away. He was wearing suspenders, which Tony was proud to say he knew how to say _and_ spell, and Tony couldn’t help but stare.

“I’m Steven, but you can call me Steve. I like your shirt, red is one of my favorite colors, but Ma says I look better in blue,” the child—Steve—babbled, “Robots are pretty cool too, but Bucky always says that dinosaurs are better. Bucky’s in my class again this year, he’s over there, with the brown hair.”

Steve turned and pointed at the boy playing with the dinosaurs in the dollhouse, beaming when Bucky looked up and waved enthusiastically at him. Once he saw the smile light up Steve’s face, Tony decided he would do everything in his power to keep that smile only for himself.

“Do you wanna play with me?” Steve asked, turning back to Tony, “Bucky’s playin’ with Sam, and I don’t wanna draw alone. Plus, we can share cubbies!”

Steve grabbed Tony’s hand and started to drag him over toward the wall lined with small wood cabinets, making a face as he judged the identical spaces before picking one.

“This one is the best,” he decided, taking off his backpack and pulling out a box of crayons and a notebook before hanging the bag up on a hook in the cubby.

Tony stared at Steve, fiddling with the straps of his backpack awkwardly. He shifted his gaze to his feet, shuffling a bit; he’d never been to a school like this before, and he wasn’t even sure what a cubby _was_. However, with an exasperated grunt from Steve, his backpack was tugged off, causing Tony to gasp and grab for it.

“Uh-uh. Not ‘llowed in the class. Gotta stay in the cubby,” Steve explained, hanging up Tony’s bag across from his own, “You can take stuff outta it, though.”

Tony watched as Steve waited patiently, wary of the other boy as he opened up his backpack and took out a book, clutching it to his chest. With a nod, Steve led Tony over to one of the tables, making sure he was seated okay before sitting down himself and spreading out his art supplies. Tony tried to open up his book and keep reading about Geronimo Stilton, but the gentle scratching of Steve’s pencil on paper kept him distracted. Mesmerized, Tony watched as Steve sketched out, inked, and colored a big, red robot, giving it yellow accents and big, blue eyes. Eventually, Steve looked up and caught Tony staring; he blushed at being caught, mumbled an apology and looked away.

“Is okay. Is for you,” Steve assured, beaming again.

_He’s missing a tooth_ , Tony found himself thinking, before shaking himself out of his thoughts. He pointed at himself, and Steve nodded, not at all ashamed.

“Yeah. You gotta tell me your name, though, so I can put it on here,” he said, jabbing at the paper.

“Anthony?”

His Mother’s voice caught through the noise, causing Tony to turn. She was smiling at him as she bent down to his level, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“I’m happy to see you’re making friends already, darling. You behave yourself, alright? I will be back to pick you up this afternoon,” she said, putting her delicate hands on his shoulders, “If you need anything, you know what to do, yes?”

Tony nodded, blushing as his Mother leaned in to kiss his cheek, using her thumb to wipe away any traces of her lipstick.

“Okay, darling. Have fun, and _don’t_ smart mouth your teacher. Miss Hill is very nice,” she said with a smile, standing and carding her manicured fingers through his hair, “Bye, love.”

Tony watched his Mother leave, but as soon as the swelling in his heart threatened tears, Steve’s drawing was slid in front of him with ‘TONY’ in large block letters scrawled on the bottom right corner.

“Anth’ny is too long. You’s gonna be Tony,” Steve declared, smiling at him again.

With that smile cast on him and him alone, Tony was unable to help his own shy smile, picking up the drawing and holding it to his chest.

“Thank you,” he whispered, shyly ducking his head.

“I’ll get tape! Lemme get the tape, an’ you can put it up in the cubby,” Steve declared, sliding off of his seat, “You stay here, okay?”

Tony watched as Steve scampered over to who he presumed was Miss Hill, giggling as the boy started to argue with her, causing the woman to put her hands on her hips and raise her eyebrow at him.

“Can we see what Steve drew ya?”

Whipping around, Tony blinked, seeing that the boy with shaggy brown hair—Bucky—was standing next to him, peering at the page clutched to his chest. Reluctantly, Tony held it out, and Bucky looked it over, nodding with an approving hum.

“Sam!” He yelled, not realizing that Tony whimpered at the noise, “Come look!”

The boy Bucky had been playing with earlier looked up from trying to fit barbie clothes onto his triceratops, quickly getting to his feet and running over.

“Steve drew this,” Bucky said proudly, showing Sam the page, “ _Told_ ya he could draw.”

“Give that back!”

Steve plucked the drawing from Bucky’s hands, pouting as he gave it back to Tony.

“That’s for _Tony_ , Buck. I can draw ya somethin’ later,” he scolded, turning to hand Tony the tape roll, “Sorry, Tony. Bucky likes ta take things sometimes. Jus’ tell him to buzz off.”

“I was just showin’ Sam! I was gonna give it back!” Bucky grumbled, folding his arms over his chest.

Feeling awkward, Tony slipped off his chair and went over to his and Steve’s cubby, taping the robot up onto his side. He affectionately ran his fingers over the waxy crayon before heading over to Miss Hill. Quietly, he tugged on her pants, and when she looked down at him, he handed up the tape roll. Before she could ask any questions, he scooted off back to Steve, only to realize the boy had been drawn into playing with the dinosaurs and the dollhouse. He pretended that he didn’t feel a bit disappointed, so he slid back into his seat and picked up his book, getting lost in the story.

“Come play with us.”

Tony frowned as he put down his book for the second time, wanting to just get through the chapter. But, after seeing that the redhead girl had bothered to put down her dolls to talk to him, he figured he better go. With a nod, Tony slid off his chair and put his book away before letting her take his hand, dragging him over to a box in the back of the room. The talkative blond was still there, talking as if the girl had never left.

“Like I was sayin’, Barney was tellin’ me that when I get big ‘nough he’s gonna take me to the circus,” he was saying, carefully stacking wood blocks together to make a skyscraper, “I’m gonna be a rope walker an’ I’m gonna learn how t’eat fire.”

He looked up, and Tony realized the other boy had things looped over his ears. They were definitely machine-looking, but Tony wasn’t sure what they were, and he knew better than to ask.

“M’Clint,” he introduced himself, pushing the box toward Tony, “Dat’s Tasha. I’m buildin’ a tower for her dollies.”

And like that, he went back to talking about the circus to no one in particular.

Tony let Clint’s babbling turn into white noise, investigating the box of wood blocks in front of him. With his tongue poking out of his mouth, he carefully started to construct a building, using the round pieces as columns for structural integrity and curb appeal. It took a while, but soon Tony had a decent building, resembling something designed by Frank Lloyd Wright.

“Alright, everyone! Pack up and head to your seats with your math books!” Miss Hill called from the front, clapping her hands three times.

Discouraged, Tony stood up and did as he was told, staring at his shoes the whole time. Sliding into the seat Steve had stuck him in earlier, he figured he was going to sit by himself, only to be surprised as Steve slid into the seat next to him.

“You should play with dinosaurs with me sometime,” He said, scooting his chair over so he was pressed up against Tony’s side, “Building with Tasha an’ Clint is fun, but I’m funner.”

“Nuh-uh. I am,” Bucky bragged, sliding into the chair across from Steve, “I’m the funnest.”

Tony ignored their bickering and started the math lesson that Miss Hill was trying to teach. He found himself picking it up after the first two problems and easily completed the rest of the booklet, sliding out of his chair once he was finished to turn it in at the front of the room. Miss Hill thanked him, but when he turned around, Tony was suddenly aware of the silence in the room and the eyes on him. He ducked his head to stare at his feet on his way back to his chair, taking short breaths to keep himself from crying, because _crying_ was for _babies_ —

“Hey, are you real smarts?” Steve’s voice interrupted, “I’m kinda smarts, but not at maths. Do you wanna help me?”

Tony immediately perked up at that, shyly looking up at Steve with a smile. He nodded, and with a soft voice, started to walk Steve through understanding his bigger times tables. It seemed like they only worked for a few minutes when Miss Hill called for a snack break, so Steve hurried up to turn his booklet in, leaving Tony to go to their cubby to dig out his lunchbox. Mother had packed him blueberries and a juice box for a snack, which made him smile because blueberries were his favorite. He returned to his seat, only to notice that Steve didn’t have a snack. Without prompting, he slid over his cup of blueberries, even going so far as to hold one out for Steve to take from his fingers.

“I thought you didn’t like blueberries, Steve,” Sam accused, stuffing a piece of a mozzarella stick into his mouth.

“I _love_ blueberries,” Steve retorted, popping another one into his mouth with a defiant hum.

Tony couldn’t help but smile again, happiness swelling in his heart and making him feel warm and fuzzy. Steve must have noticed, because he bumped their shoulders together and pushed the cup back, making Tony eat his own share as well.

Snack passed, and so did Science and Social Studies, the latter making Tony nearly fall asleep against Steve’s arm. Miss Hill then called for recess and lunch, instructing the class to grab their lunchboxes; it was warm enough that they could eat outside today. The kids cheered and rushed to grab their lunchboxes, except for Tony. He waited for the masses to clear before grabbing his own, still uncomfortable with the prospect of unruly crowds. With his robot lunchbox clutched to his chest, he made his way outside, seeing his classmates spread out on the picnic tables and grass, all eating and talking animatedly. He swallowed nervously and headed over to a shady tree, slumping down against the bark of the strong oak before pulling out a ham sandwich.

“Tony?”

Looking up from taking a bite, he blinked up at Steve, noticing that he was oddly nervous.

“Can I sit and eat with you?” he asked.

Tony nodded, scooting over slightly so Steve could sit next to him and also lean up against the tree. Steve eagerly pulled out his own cheese sandwich and started to eat, talking excitedly about recess.

“Bucky and Tasha wanna play house t’day, so you should join us,” he said around a mouthful of pretzels, “We can make our own house if y’want. Bucky’s usually the Mom, but he’s been complaining about takin’ care of the kids by himselfs.”

Tony blinked. _House_?

“So, you can be Mom. I’m Dad, ‘cause I know how t’mow the lawn an’ read the newspapers,” Steve said proudly, digging out a tiny orange to split open, handing Tony a slice, “Tasha an’ Buck are our kids an’ Thor an’ Bruce an’ Clint an’ Sam are the neighbors. Thor is their Dad an’ Bruce is the Mom an’ Clint an’ Sam are their kids.”

Tony took the orange slice offered to him and ate it, savoring the sweet taste of the fruit before nodding. He’d never played house before, but he figured if Steve wanted to play, it would be fun, right?

_Oh_ , was the only thought in Tony’s head as he sat in the playhouse, hugging Natasha, who was currently perched on his lap despite being bigger than Tony. He watched through the window as Steve scolded Bucky, who in turn was arguing back.

“You’s supposed to do the dishes after dinner, young man,” Steve was saying, one hand on his hips as he waggled his finger at Bucky’s face.

“Nuh _uh_. That’s Mom’s job,” Bucky argued back, arms steadfastly crossed over his chest, “Besides, why doesn’t Tasha do the dishes?”

“Cause she’s not old ‘nough,” Steve harrumphed, “Don’t talk backs to me, Buck.”

Tony couldn’t help his giggle at that, seeing how serious Steve actually was, despite the lack of any dishes to actually be cleaned. Both boys turned to look at him, and Steve grinned, but Bucky scowled deeper, if that was somehow possible.

“Mom’s a jerk,” he complained.

“Don’t talk t’your Mom like that!” Steve yelled, grinning as he tackled Bucky to the ground.

The two boys wrestled around on the grass until Miss Hill came over to pull them apart, sighing as they both giggled at her. Tony smiled at the scene and held Tasha a little tighter, only to have the look wiped off of his face.

“Both of you are in time out,” Miss Hill said to Steve and Bucky, ushering them back inside, “Let’s go, you two.”

Tony immediately teared up, and once he got Natasha off of his lap, sprinted over to Miss Hill, tugging on her pant leg to get her to stop.

“Please,” he begged, mustering up his best puppy dog eyes as he looked up at her, “Please don’ put ‘em in time out. It was my fault they were play fightin’, promise. Don’ put ‘em in time out—”

Sniffling, Tony rubbed his eyes, and Steve immediately wrapped his arms around him, pulling Tony in tight. He tucked his head into the crook of Steve’s neck and held him back, uncaring that the grass stains on Steve’s clothes were probably making his own clothes dirty.

“Tony, honey, look at me,” Miss Hill coaxed gently, pulling him away from Steve, “They’ll only be in the corner for a few minutes. Play fighting or no, we don’t want them to get hurt by wrestling like that. Okay? As soon as they’re done, Steve can come right back and play with you. I’ll even make sure his cot is next to yours for naptime.”

Tony sniffled again, but he nodded, letting Miss Hill take Steve and Bucky back inside. He ran up to the door to watch as Steve and Bucky were stuck in chairs facing opposite corners, clearly unperturbed by their predicament. Those ten minutes were the longest of his life; he ended up picking dandelions with Clint, but he kept glancing over his shoulder to wait for Steve to run back out. Just as he had made a nice, full bouquet of grass stalks and dandelion flowers, Tony turned for the umpteenth time, beaming as he watched Steve dart across the field to him. He let Steve run into him for a hug, happily snuggling into the boy’s warmth for a moment.

“Thanks f’tryna stand up for me, Tony,” Steve said, pulling back with a bashful smile, “Buck and I get in trouble lots, though. We really don’ mind—who are those for?”

Steve pointed at the bouquet, and Tony smiled, scuffling his shoes in the dirt as he pushed it into Steve’s chest. He took it with careful hands, ducking his head to smell it.

“I love it. You’s a good friend, Tony,” he murmured, taking Tony’s hand in his own, “C’mon, let’s go finish playin’ house.”

Staring at their entwined hands, Tony almost tripped as he ran back with Steve to the playhouse, finding Bucky talking with Natasha as they sipped at empty teacups.

“Hi, kids,” Steve said, squeezing Tony’s hand, “Look what Mom got me!”

He showed off the bouquet, so Tony ducked slightly behind Steve, embarrassed about it. Natasha cooed softly over it, and Bucky made a face at Steve, to which Steve made a face back. Tony was confused, considering he couldn’t figure out what silent conversation they just had, but the soft kiss pressed to his cheek short-circuited his brain anyway, making any thoughts he was having fly out of the window.

“Kisses for my lovely wife. I hear my own Pop call Ma that all the time,” Steve said smugly, poking Tony’s cheek where he’d just kissed him.

Tony reached up himself to touch his cheek, eyes wide with surprise. Thankfully, Miss Hill called for naptime before he could respond, so he could file it away for dealing with later. He and Steve walked hand-in-hand back into the building, helping each other set up their cots before grabbing their blankets from their cubby. Secretly, Tony grabbed his fluffy rabbit from his backpack, keeping it tucked under his blanket so the other kids wouldn’t be able to see it. He wasn’t a _baby_ , but Mr. Rabbit was comfy, and nice to hug.

“Hey Tony?” Steve asked as he settled onto his cot, turning to face Tony, “You’s really swell. I liked playing with you today.”

He yawned softly and snuggled down under his blanket, reaching out to grab Tony’s hand. Baffled by the admission, Tony stared at their hands again, feeling emotion well up behind his eyes and threaten to spill over. To keep himself from crying, he ducked his face into Mr. Rabbit’s fur, squeezing Steve’s hand back.

“Tony? Did I upset ya?”

Not wanting to reply verbally lest the waterworks start, Tony shook his head, keeping his eyes firmly shut against Mr. Rabbit. Hearing Steve sigh and feeling him unlink their hands, a cold chill went down his back: he’d ruined it already.

“Scoot over.”

Tony finally looked up to see Steve standing over him with his blanket, now even _more_ confused at his request. Steve merely rolled his eyes and climbed into Tony’s cot, tossing his blanket over them both and re-settling Mr. Rabbit between them.

“Sorry if I upset ya, Tony. Miss Hill might get mad, but I don’ care,” Steve whispered, hugging Tony tight.

It took everything in his willpower to not break down sobbing. Steve’s warmth felt so _good_ ; Mother only kissed his cheek sometimes and held his hand, and Father never showed him any sorts of physical affection, so to have Steve hug him made Tony want to cry at how warm and safe he felt. Instead, he tucked himself up against Steve, and after tentatively wrapping his own arm around him, fell asleep for their nap time.

When Miss Hill came around to check on them, she merely rolled her eyes at Steve and Tony, shaking her head as she picked up the extra cot to put away. It wasn’t unlike pre-kindergarteners to cuddle up during nap time, so she let it be, instead helping the few children who were awake pack up their things to get ready to go home. Of course, once parents started to arrive, all of the children woke up, excited to finally go home.

That was, except for Tony.

He slowly packed up his lunchbox and blanket and everything else he’d used that day, zipping up his backpack with a slow _ziiiip_. Sighing, he traced his fingers over Steve’s robot drawing taped to his side of the cubby. He took a quick look around before bending down, kissing the picture shyly.

“Tony! Your mother is here,” Miss Hill called from the front of the room.

Perking up at his name, Tony trotted to the front of the class with his backpack on his small shoulders, smiling up at his Mother as she held out her hand for him to take.

“Tony!”

He turned, beaming as Steve barreled into him, hugging him tightly. Tony returned the hug, burying his face in Steve’s neck for the second time.

“I’ll miss you, Tony. Gonna get here early t’morrow so we can play b’fore math,” Steve declared, not pulling away, “An’ we gonna play house again, okay?”

“Okay,” Tony whispered softly, forcing himself to pull away so he could get another look at the radiant smile on Steve’s face, “Gonna miss you too, Steeb.”

“Okay, Anthony, it’s time to go. Your Father and I have a gala to attend,” his Mother said gently, taking Tony’s hand to pull them apart, “Say goodbye to Steve.”

“Bye, Steeb,” Tony said, and with a bashful wave, let his Mother lead him out of the classroom.

He couldn’t resist glancing over his shoulder as they walked to the limo, watching the classroom window. After a moment, Steve and Bucky’s heads popped up, and with a giggle, Tony waved at them, smiling as they excitedly waved back.

_Maybe school is okay_ , he thought to himself, finding himself only thinking of Steve kissing his cheek.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elementary school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd. Comments and kudos are really appreciated. Ask me questions over @avengersasssemble on tumblr.com.

“I still think this is stupid,” Tony was saying, tugging at his costume with a pout.

It was nearly Christmas, so the elementary school was holding a play, and all of the students were required to participate. The younger kids were to be carolers, but for Tony and his class as the older students in 4th grade, they had actual parts to play, with lines and all. That is, except for those who had to dress up like animals and make appropriate animal noises when prompted.

Like Tony.

“You’re just jealous you didn’t get one of the big parts this year,” Sam snorted, adjusting his Wise Man costume so the hat would stop falling forward into his eyes.

“Yeah, you talk enough in class that they decided to give you a silent role,” Bucky joked, earning a high-five from Sam.

“Hey, stop that. That’s mean,” Steve said as he walked up to the group, frowning at the giggling boys, “Tony’s fine, and I think he looks good. He makes a cute sheep, and you all know it.”

Tony blinked at that, staring down at his costume. It was just a wooly shirt and matching pants, with wool armbands and ears glued to a headband perched on his fluffy hair. He blushed as he met Steve’s smile, shrugging slightly.

“It’s okay. I’m not a fan of the tail,” he sighed, pouting as he looked over his shoulder at the offending cottontail glued to his pants, “I can’t sit.”

“You could be wearing a dress,” Steve laughed, gesturing to his own outfit.

“I’d rather be an angel than a sheep.”

“The halo is really itchy, I promise you it isn’t as great as it looks.”

“At least you got lines!”

“Yeah, _two_ lines. At least you look cute.”

Even Bucky had to frown at that, leveling Steve with a stare.

“You look fine, Mom and Dad,” he sighed, rolling his eyes, “Really. It’s just a dumb play anyway. Once it's done, we’re going to Tony’s house to hang out, which is what _I’m_ looking forward to.”

Tony beamed, remembering his parents’ promise: after the show, they were finally going to let him bring _all_ of his friends over. They had always been fussy about it before since their house was fairly ornate and they didn’t want things broken, but Tony had been begging them for _forever_ , and Mother finally relented when he explained how important it was to him.

 _“Mother, I really want to have them over, they’re my friends and they think you and Father don’t like them,” he whined, climbing up into her lap so he could give her his biggest puppy dog eyes, “Please please_ please _can I have them over? Just for a little? Just to watch a movie and have cake. We’ve worked so hard on this stuff and we’re super proud of it and we wanna play together in a house that has working heat—”_

_“Whose house doesn’t have working heat?” Mother asked, her brows creasing in worry._

_Tony went quiet as he awkwardly shuffled on her lap, not keen on responding. However, she poked one manicured finger into his belly, making him squeal with laughter._

_“Who,_ bambino _? I want to know,” she said patiently._

_“…Steve,” Tony finally admitted, casting his gaze down, “Miss Sarah’s had it rough since Mr. Joseph…”_

_Mother nodded, hushing Tony by hugging him close to her chest, rubbing comforting circles on his back._

_“I see. We can have them over, darling. You just have to tell me how many babies are coming over.”_

_“We’re not babies!” Tony exclaimed, pulling back to pout while his Mother laughed._

_“You are so young, Anthony. You will always be my baby.”_

“Tony?”

Steve’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts, making him shake his head to try and bring himself back to the present.

“Sorry, spaced for a second,” He said, turning to give Steve a shaky smile.

This was Steve’s second Christmas without his dad. Last year had been awful; Miss Sarah only had a landline as it was, and Tony could clearly remember the night when their own phone rang, and a sobbing Steve had asked to speak to Tony. He was allowed an extra two hours past his bedtime to stay up to talk to him, but he still felt like that hadn’t been enough. They hadn’t talked about it since, but because it was nearing that time again, Tony wondered if he should say something.

“…Tony. _Dude_ ,” Bucky said, snapping his fingers in front of Tony’s face, “What are you thinking about? Pepper?”

Tony blushed but rapidly shook his head, pouting at Bucky’s laugh. This year, a few new girls joined their class and he had become fast friends with Virginia Potts, who he started calling ‘Pepper’ because of her no-nonsense attitude. However, whenever a boy started to be friends with a girl, rumors started to swirl. Which made Tony mad.

“We’re just friends, Bucky,” he insisted for the millionth time, “Really. Pep’s nice, but girls are _gross_.”

Sam nodded with a noise of agreement, only to yelp as he was smacked on his arm by Natasha, who walked up in her own angel costume.

“We are not, _boys_ are gross,” She huffed, folding her arms over her chest, “You guys always smell bad.”

“Boys are s’posed to smell bad,” Bucky said, rolling his eyes, “We’re _boys_.”

 _That’s not true_ , Tony thought, sidling up closer to Steve.

Almost automatically, Steve’s hand found Tony’s, and he squeezed lightly; it had become sort of their ‘thing’ whenever they wanted comfort. Tony immediately turned in to hug Steve, thankful for his latest growth spurt so he could finally tuck his face into Steve’s neck without having to go up on his tiptoes. They stayed in the hug until Mr. Coulson called them all to get ready for curtain, at which Steve pulled back with a sniffle.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Tony asked softly, clearly worried as he reached up to poke the wrinkles between Steve’s brows.

“Maybe later,” he murmured, casting his gaze to his feet, “Thanks, Tony.”

Tony nodded, taking Steve’s hand again to squeeze as they walked backstage. They watched the other students from the shadows as the play started, unable to help their giggles when Clint was trotted onstage in a donkey outfit.

“See, he looks funny. You just look cute,” Steve said under his breath, turning to give Tony a shy smile.

Tony tried to frown, but he found a bashful smile of his own on his face, making him bite his lip to keep from grinning too big. Steve just had that effect on him: he was so honest, whether it be about something good or bad, and receiving a Steve Compliment never failed to make Tony feel a flutter in his chest that his doctor had said he need not worry about.

He still worried, but he figured that if something was wrong, it was worth it if it meant Steve said something nice about him.

“We need t’go on stage soon,” Steve was saying, tugging Tony up, “You ready?”

 _No_ , Tony thought, but he nodded anyway.

Thankfully, the play went off without a hitch, save for the costume blunder when Thor exchanged out Natasha’s halo for horns. Steve even came right up to Tony’s side for the curtain call and bow, holding tight to his hand as the auditorium’s applause rang around them.

“Only one more of those left, then in middle school we don’t gotta do that anymore,” Bucky was saying in the boys’ locker room, shucking off his shepherd costume to put on day clothes.

“Good. I don’t ever want to do this again,” Bruce agreed, fixing his glasses on his face, “I’ll stick to the library, thank you.”

“It wasn’t _that_ bad, you guys,” Steve scolded, slipping on a hoodie over his thin frame, “Really. And we get to go to Tony’s.”

“Yeah! I heard your house’s got, like, two hundred rooms,” Sam exclaimed, hanging up his costume with a grin, “And that you got your own theatre and _everything_.”

“It’s not that big,” Tony protested weakly, plucking off his cottontail and headband, “It’s real empty.”

“And that’s why we’re coming over,” Bucky said smoothly, throwing his arm over Tony’s shoulders, “We’re gonna all stay in ya empty mansion and eat cake until Miss Sarah comes to get us.”

“Yeah. Sorry you guys can’t stay overnight, but I’m not ‘llowed to have girls overnight and Mother didn’t want me to make them feel left out,” Tony admitted, shrugging off Bucky so he could wrestle himself into his clothes, “Plus, Father’s still mad over the last time you guys came over and tried to get into his study.”

“It’s not our fault the door was unlocked,” Thor snorted, leading the parade out of the locker room, “He shoulda locked it if he didn’t want anyone in there.”

Steve was quiet as the others chattered, finding Tony’s hand again. On that occasion, he had been the one who stayed up the latest, making sure Thor, Bucky, and Bruce were asleep before waiting for Tony to come back after Mr. Stark had called him in to talk. Of course, he was ever curious and stood outside Mr. Stark’s study to peek in on Tony.

Tony looked up at Steve, and seeing the distant look in his eyes, knew what he was remembering.

_“You need to keep better track of those little shits, boy,” Mr. Stark growled, waving a nearly-empty bottle of whiskey at Tony, “If they get in here and take my shit, you’re going to be the one I’m coming for, you hear me?”_

_“Yes, Father,” Tony’s small voice said from inside the room._

_He was obstructed from Steve’s point of view, so when he moved to get a better look, he had to put a hand over his mouth to keep from crying out. Tony was sitting in the corner of Mr. Stark’s study, clearly distressed and attempting to keep from crying. There were red marks on his hands and seeing the belt strap laid out on Howard’s desk, Steve instantly knew what had happened._

_“And you’ve fucking pissed yourself. You are a baby, Anthony, a fucking_ baby _. Go clean yourself up and get out of my fucking sight.”_

_“Yes, Father.”_

_Steve ducked into the shadows just in time to see Tony scurry away toward his room, wincing as the study door slammed and locked behind him. He quickly followed Tony, anxious to check up on his friend, and despite Tony turning around and looking horrified to find Steve standing there, he drew Tony into a hug, holding him tight._

_“It’s okay,” Steve whispered, holding Tony until the tension in his small body started to melt, “I’ve got you, Tony. It’s okay.”_

“Steve?”

Tony tugged on Steve’s sleeve, sighing when he shook his head and looked down at Tony.

“You okay?” he asked softly, looking into Steve’s eyes.

“Yeah. Sorry. Just…thinking,” he murmured, “I’m gonna put this away and get my backpack. Meet you out front?”

He squeezed Tony’s hand again and headed to his locker, so Tony bottled up his concern and did the same. After putting his costume up and shouldering his backpack, Tony fondly stroked a finger over the robot drawing on his inner locker door; it was a little crinkled after having it for so many years, but Steve had given it to him, so he kept it. He looked around to make sure no one was close before pressing a small kiss to the paper and closing the locker door. Quickly, Tony headed out front, finding his friends chattering in a small group.

“Hey,” Pepper said shyly when he walked up, “You have fun?”

“It was okay. M’not a theatre kid,” he admitted, glad for the conversation to keep him from thinking, “How ‘bout you?”

“I’m not one either, but Mom likes to embarrass me by taking a lot of pictures.”

Tony laughed at that, grinning up at her as he knocked his shoulder into hers.

“Tony!” Bucky shouted, “You have a _limo_?”

His face immediately dropped, and he could see that Pepper was about to say something, so he scooted to the front of the group to find his butler exiting the family limo.

“Young master Tony,” Jarvis greeted, smiling as the boy ran up to him, “Are these all of your friends?”

“Yessir,” Tony replied, shifting on his feet, “Did you have to bring the limo?”

“I would have brought a more…sensible vehicle, but there are so many of you that I had no other option,” Jarvis said, giving Tony an apologetic smile.

“Limos are awesome!” Sam yelled, laughing with the others as Jarvis opened the door and the children streamed in.

Tony flushed at that; sure, he liked to buy his friends nice things, but he hated to flaunt his money, especially in front of Steve. He glanced over at him, smiling in relief when Steve grinned at him.

“After you,” Steve said, holding the door for Tony.

He eagerly climbed into the limo, finding himself squished between Pepper and Steve. The others were happily chattering amongst themselves, seemingly uncaring that they could all barely fit on the bench. Of course, Bucky tried to inspect the liquor cabinet, but Jarvis had padlocked it shut, which made Tony feel much better.

“What movie are we watching, Tony?” Jane piped up from Thor’s lap.

“Meet the Robinsons,” He answered, grinning at Steve’s groan of disdain.

“ _Tony_ ,” he whined, resting his head on Tony’s shoulder, “Do we have to watch that one?”

“Yes,” He answered smugly, resting his head on Steve’s in turn, “It’s a good movie, Steve.”

“It really isn’t.”

“You’re just mad that Bucky said you were Goob.”

Steve pouted but didn’t offer up an answer, making the kids laugh. Thankfully, the drive from the school to the mansion was only a few minutes, so they were all soon distracted by staring out of the limo windows, gasping up at the building.

“That….is a big house,” Scott observed, looking fairly green, “You can’t get lost in there, right?”

“Not at all, Mr. Lang,” Jarvis’ voice filtered through the limo cabin, “If you would all exit the limo, young master Tony will lead you up the house safely.”

Steve popped open the door, and not unlike a clown car, all of the children filtered out, making their way up to the door. Unsurprisingly, two maids opened the large oak doors once they were close enough, ushering in the children into the foyer.

“Your Father is still at his office, but your Mother is waiting for you and your friends in the sitting room,” one of them informed Tony, collecting the backpacks from everyone.

“Thanks, Ava,” He said nervously, suddenly realizing that those who had not visited his house before were very quiet.

He lead the group down the hall and into the sitting room, relaxing once he saw Mother in her favorite chair, knitting needles working in her hands. A fire was stoked in the fireplace, giving the room a cozy aura that further unknotted the tension he was carrying on his shoulders.

“Hello, Mother,” Tony said softly, not wanting to accidentally scare her as he so often did, “We’re here.”

She turned to smile at them, beckoning them closer.

“My, Anthony, you sure have collected quite a few friends, haven’t you?” She teased, “It’s lovely to meet those of you that I haven’t met before.”

A few of them chorused hellos, but Pepper stepped up to the front of the group, her hand jutted out for a handshake.

“Pepper Potts, ma’am,” she said formally.

“Ms. Potts. Anthony has mentioned you often,” Mother answered, shaking her hand with a smile.

Tony groaned in embarrassment as Bucky whooped an ‘I told you so,’ earning grumbles from a few of the others. Steve couldn’t help but laugh, knocking their shoulders together.

“When are we getting cake, Tony?” Thor piped up, “Acting is tiring work and I desire sustenance.”

“You really gotta stop talking like a weirdo, Thor,” Clint sighed, “We get the whole Norse thing, but really?”

“I think its cute,” Jane said defensively, “If you don’t like it, just turn your ears off.”

“Be nice,” Scott snorted.

“There is cake and other goodies in the kitchen. Tony, why don’t you show them where it is?” Mother said overtop of the arguing, taking her knitting back up, “Your Father should be home soon. If he’s in a good mood, he might let you all look into the lab.”

Tony highly doubted that, but he nodded anyway, leaning up to kiss her on the cheek before leading the group through the house and to the kitchen. Unsurprisingly, Jarvis was already there, slicing the cake up into children-appropriate portions.

“Gnarly,” Clint said, immediately grabbing a slice and a force, “Thanks, Mister—”

“Just Jarvis is fine, Mr. Barton,” Jarvis answered, handing out the plates of cake to everyone.

“He knows my name,” Clint whispered, making Bucky laugh at the look of awe on his face.

Once everyone had a slice of cake and a plastic cup of water or juice, they settled around the large family dining table, somehow unable to fill up all of the chairs despite their number. Tony was seated next to Scott, who, seeing that Steve hadn’t sat down yet and that there was no chair on the other side of Tony, willingly moved without either of them saying anything.

“Hey! You can sit next to me,” Tony protested, flushing a little.

“I don’t want Captain Cranky coming after me,” Scott teased, high-fiving Clint as he sat down next to him instead.

Steve scowled, but Tony carefully put a hand on Steve’s knee, rolling his eyes. They all liked to tease them about their close friendship, but even Tony knew that Steve and Bucky were much closer. He merely ignored it and dug into his cake, happy to enjoy watching his friends eat and talk happily amongst themselves. However, once he saw Clint go to grab a fistful of cake and cock his arm back to aim at Scott, Tony sat up really straight and gasped, holding his hand out to try and stop him. The table froze at the noise, turning to stare at him.

“Don’t—Don’t do that. Father won’t be happy,” Tony explained nervously.

Thankfully, Jarvis chose that moment to check on them, immediately turning an eye to Clint.

“Come along, Mr. Barton. Let’s get you cleaned up,” he said while managing to corral him out without getting cake onto anything.

It was silent for a bit after that, leaving even Natasha a little stunned as she pushed the last her cake crumbs around her plate. Bruce cleared his throat and stood up, grabbing his empty plate.

“Tony, let’s clean up and go watch that movie,” he said, going over to take Tony’s hand with a smile.

Thankful for the distraction, Tony took his own plate and trotted into the kitchen with Bruce, showing everyone where the trash was and making sure everything had been left relatively clean. Once roll call was taken to make sure no one had _actually_ gotten lost, he took everyone down to the home movie theatre, grinning when they all started to chatter again, squishing themselves onto the large couch.

“Now _this_ is luxury,” Sam sighed, leaning back and closing his eyes, “We don’t even have to watch a movie. I’m cool with just laying here.”

Steve rolled his eyes and moved to help Tony set up the system, which really meant holding all of the remotes as Tony flicked through them. Since he didn’t even own a television, his own knowledge of electronics was scarce, so he wasn’t much help.

“Thanks, Steve,” Tony murmured once the movie was playing, letting Steve protectively take his hand.

Together, they squished onto the couch, ending up with Tony on Steve’s lap, his back pressed up against Thor’s arm. It felt warm, comforting, _safe_ ; after just a few minutes, Tony found himself relaxing against Steve’s chest, humming softly when a hand carded itself through his hair.

 _Pepper_ , his mind said, recognizing the pressure of the nails on his scalp.

“You can sleep if you want, we’ve got you,” Steve murmured under his breath, just to Tony, “We’ll be here when you wake up.”

It was no secret that Tony didn’t sleep well. Since Father spent a lot of nights up late working in his study or drinking, he tended to be awake late into the night, listening to the sounds of angry rants and shattering glass. So, when presented with the opportunity, Tony nodded and closed his eyes, slowly relaxing against Steve’s rising and falling chest, lured to sleep by his heartbeat.

If only it lasted.

He recognized the steps in his subconscious, forcing him to jolt awake. Sitting up straight, Tony clambered off Steve’s lap awkwardly, trying to make it to the door to close it before the footsteps got too close.

“Howard, really, you are nine sheets to the wind, and he has his friends over for once. You need to go lie down—”

Just a foot away from the door, Tony stopped, flinching as the shadow in the doorway soon turned into the looming figure of his father. Though he was dressed in a pressed suit, the stench on him and the look on his face immediately told Tony he had been drinking out of the big adult bottles of drink again. Which meant he was in trouble.

“Father,” he tried, attempting to draw attention away from his classmates behind him.

“Shut up,” he snarled, “Who told you that you could bring these pests into the house again? Didn’t you learn your fucking lesson the first time?”

“ _Howard_ ,” his mother’s pleading voice came from the hallway, “Come on. Let’s go.”

“No, no, he needs to learn, he is a _Stark_ , and when I tell him to not fucking do something, he doesn’t _fucking_ do it again.”

“I’m sorry, really, it won’t happen again, I promise,” Tony pleaded, begged, _hoping_ he would just go away—

He wasn’t prepared for the hand that smacked him across his face. He was stunned, feeling the hot pain jab like needles across his cheek.

“You’re damn right it won’t happen again, boy,” his Father said coolly, motioning to him with the bottle in his hand, “If it does, you’ll get more than that.”

He stumbled out of the room, and Tony looked up at his Mother standing there, watching as she silently trailed after his Father. It took all of five seconds before hell broke loose.

“What the actual fuck?” Bucky exclaimed, leaping off the couch to run over to Tony, “Are you okay? Lemme see—oh jeez, Tony, at least it didn’t get your eye, but that’s gonna be red—”

“Is murder still illegal?” Natasha asked, hopping off as well.

“Unfortunately, yes, but so is hitting your kids,” Steve answered, creeping over to Tony’s side, “Tony? Can you look at me? Hm?”

He sucked in a breath when Tony turned, recognizing the glassy look in his eyes from the first sleepover. Carefully, Steve drew him into a hug, smiling when the others declared a group hug and gathered around him.

“Should we tell Miss Sarah?” Bucky’s voice piped up again, “She can do somethin’, right?”

“No, no don’t tell,” Tony begged, finally saying something, “It’ll just make it worse, you can’t tell _nobody_. Not even Miss Sarah.”

“But Tony—”

“No, Steve. Promise me, guys, you can’t tell _anyone_.”

There was an awkward second before they all made the promise, still locked in the group hug. The feeling of safety no longer lingered, so Tony pulled away from Steve, sniffling and wiping away the few tears that had fallen.

“Maybe you guys should go home. I don’t feel so good,” he said quietly, staring at his feet, “Jarvis is still in the kitchen. He can call your parents and stuff.”

“C’mon, give him some space,” Bruce called out, hustling everyone out.

He lingered at the door, unsurprised that Steve had stayed behind.

“We’ll see you Monday, Tony,” he said softly, “If you need anything, just call, okay? Mom can come get you—"

“Thanks, Brucey bear,” Tony interrupted, “I’m okay. Really. It’s fine.”

It clearly wasn’t fine, but Bruce wasn’t about to argue, so he nodded to Steve and left, shutting the door behind him. Silently, Tony moved to turn the movie off, sitting on the floor of the room with one of the remotes in his hand. Steve waited for a minute, letting Tony work through his distraction before quietly padding over to him, sitting down next to him.

“Can I have a hug?” Steve asked, “I’m kind of cold.”

They both knew it was a lie, but Tony practically threw himself into Steve’s arms, shaking with silent sobs. Steve shushed him softly and petted his hair, staring angrily at the door. He knew something had been up, and he didn’t say anything, and now Tony was hurt _again_. At that moment, he silently vowed to keep Tony as safe as he could and knew his own Papa would be proud that he crossed his fingers when he promised so he could go home and tell Momma about everything without feeling guilty.

Well, less guilty than just outright breaking a promise to Tony.

“I’ve got you,” Steve whispered, ducking his head so he could press a kiss to Tony’s cheek, “Kisses for my lovely wife.”

Tony choked a laugh, so Steve claimed a victory point; as long as he kept Tony laughing, everything would be okay.

He hoped.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Middle school soccer, health class, and lies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd. Comments and kudos are really appreciated. Ask me questions over @avengersasssemble on tumblr.com.

He honestly really hated that he had to use a rolling backpack, but if he was going to carry his AP Calculus, AP Government, Physics, and ACT study guide textbooks around, Tony recognized that he did indeed have a weak back and would not be able to carry them around by himself. However, Steve _also_ had a rolling backpack, so he didn’t feel so alone. That is, until Steve fastened makeshift straps to it and carried it on his back, like he did that morning.

“What—what is that?” Tony asked, seeing Steve stumble up to his locker and shoulder off his backpack, “Steve, what did you do.”

He slid his eyes over to guiltily look at Tony, quickly shoving his pack into his locker and pulling out his books for first period.

“…Steve, do not tell me you glued two belts to your backpack so you could carry it on your back,” Tony said flatly, stepping over into Steve’s space to make him stop, “You know you’re not supposed—”

“Oh, screw off, I can carry it,” He snapped, only to recoil and look ashamed, “Sorry. I didn’t mean that. It’s just—”

“I know,” Tony said gently, biting his bottom lip, “It’s okay, Steve.”

He pulled his best friend into a hug, scraping his blunt nails against his scalp to get Steve to relax in his arms. Though they’d known Steve had had asthma and various other ailments for a long time and had to be careful because of them, his latest diagnosis of mild scoliosis had really kicked him down since he’d had to buy a new backpack and quit the soccer team.

The soccer team that Tony was the Captain on, allowing them to spend time together after school when Tony’s parents would usually whisk him home to force him to study.

“Not okay,” Steve mumbled into Tony’s chest, “It sucks, it _really_ sucks—”

“Nat might let you on the cheerleading team?” Tony suggested, grinning when Steve pulled back to glare at him, “You think I’m kidding? You could do it. Just need to get you a brace, y’know?”

“No brace,” He answered immediately, not meeting Tony’s gaze, “I don’t need it.”

“Steve. Even _I_ know you hurt when you bend wrong. You should be wearing a brace.”

“I’m going to be _fourteen_. Fourteen-year-olds don’t need back braces.”

“Fourteen-year-olds don’t need to sleep with a stuffed animal either, but you don’t see me getting rid of Mr. Rabbit,” Tony said softly, squeezing Steve’s arms, “It’s okay, Steve. You know we’ve all got your back.”

“…That was terrible.”

“It was unintentional.”

“Was it?”

“You little bitch—”

“ _Language_ , Tony.”

Tony rolled his eyes and lightly pushed Steve, grinning at the other’s smirk. He quickly grabbed his own materials for first period from his locker before falling into step next to Steve, sneaking his hand into the other’s to lightly lace their fingers together. They were quiet on the trek to their classroom, sliding into their assigned seats in the back corner of the room.

“Do you have a game today?” Steve asked, wincing as he slumped down into the desk.

“Mhm. Against Xavier’s Preparatory.”

“The X-Men? Really?”

“What about the X-Men?” Clint asked from his desk in front of Tony, turning around to join the conversation, “Don’t you play them today?”

“I literally just said that.”

“Mostly deaf, dude.”

“Then turn your ears on.”

Steve rolled his eyes as the two boys bickered, adjusting his body until he could be a little comfortable in the hard, metal desk. His attention drifted in and out as his friends petered into the room, finding their desks and socializing until the bell rang. Even then, Tony had to snap his fingers in front of his face to draw him out of his daydreams.

“You okay?” He whispered, leaning over so Principal Fury couldn’t hear from where he was reading the announcements at the front of the room.

Steve nodded, offering a grateful smile until Tony turned away. This was going to be the first soccer game in middle school in which he wasn’t right by Tony’s side on the field. Inwardly, it was heartbreaking, and he knew Tony would quit the team if he told him about how he truly felt. But, he also knew Tony needed the sport because he always looked so _happy_ flying across the field—

“Steven? Are you paying attention?”

Fury’s voice broke his train of thought, making Steve blink in surprise and try to stammer out an answer. He quickly flushed and became embarrassed, ducking his head as Fury went back to reading the announcements. After a second, a wet _thwap_ resounded in the room, and the room burst into laughter, as a big spitball was now stuck on Fury’s face, in-between his brows. Clint reached his hand back under his desk so Tony fist-bumped him, hiding their smirks in their other hands.

“Thanks,” Steve murmured, catching Clint’s wink as Fury started to go into a tirade, “But you’re going to be in trouble.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bar _ton_ —”

“Yes sir, Mr. Fury, sir,” Clint called out, saluting as he turned around in his desk, “Sir, if I may say so, your culturally inappropriate bindi looks very nice today—”

“Office. _Now_.”

Clint merely turning to grin and send finger-guns at Steve as he stood from his desk and moved, under-handedly fist-bumping Bucky and Sam on his way out of the door behind Fury. As soon as they left, Mr. Coulson took up his reign at the front of the room, launching into the assignments due that week. Tony sighed and scribbled down the work before turning his attention to Steve; it's not that he was a large worrywart, but when it came to Steve being stubborn, he tended to let his mind fret. It had been enough of an ordeal to convince him to take his inhaler when he was running laps for soccer, so a back brace was out of the question.

Unless, of course, he figured out a way to build one and pleaded with Steve to test it for him.

Tony quickly dug out his engineering paper pad from his stack of books, writing down the idea before tearing off the paper. The movement made him wince, so as an afterthought, he tore off a corner and wrote:

_Lunch. Bathroom behind the gym. Bring the box._

He folded it into quarters and wrote ‘Natasha’ on it, then flicked it over to Bruce’s desk when Coulson’s back was turned. Bruce glanced at it, and slowly, the note got passed over without getting noticed. Natasha opened the slip, looked over at Tony and nodded, a frown twitching her lips. He merely shrugged and returned to his sketch, detailing what he wanted the brace to look like. Now, he wasn’t skilled in any sort of chiropracticy, but Howard sometimes wore a brace when he worked too long in the lab, so he figured he could nab it when he was passed out drunk and use it as a base model. Plus, he’d already hacked into the Library of Congress earlier that year, so he could look up medical reference books, if need be.

He spent the next three classes engrossed in his plan, having to flip over the paper several times as Steve got curious. With a charming smile, he simply told him he was working on more stuff for Howard, which made Steve raise an eyebrow but stop asking questions. Tony had nearly finished the base biometrics for the type of cloth to use that wouldn’t aggravate Steve’s sensitive skin when a hand reached over his shoulder and plucked the paper out of his hands.

“Hey!” Tony griped, only to sheepishly look up at a concerned Mr. Coulson, “…Can I have that back?”

“When you go to lunch, yes. You need to pay attention to Health since that’s the one class that involves talking and not much textbook material,” he answered, folding the paper into quarters and tucking it into his breast pocket.

Tony sighed, but he knew Coulson was serious, so he nodded and let his eyes glaze over. He’d nearly mastered sleeping with his eyes open, but as he was drifting in and out, the class erupted into giggles, pulling Tony from his thoughts. He looked over at Steve, lips twitching into a smile to see how red his best friend’s face and ears were.

“What just happened?” he whispered, reaching over with his foot to nudge Steve’s desk.

“Thor asked if—if guys can get pregnant through the b-butt,” Steve mumbled, making a face at his word choice.

Tony giggled at that, immediately snapping out of his sleepiness to pay attention. Usually, Health was a boring class about eating healthy and nutrition, but they were supposed to get to the chapters about _Our Changing Bodies_ and _Sex and Sexual Health_ , which, to a bunch of pre-teens, was the fucking funniest thing they’d ever heard. He was already aware of and knew about sex and what his body was doing hormonally and physically, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to innocently ask Coulson absurd questions.

“No, Thor, people with male genitalia cannot get pregnant,” Coulson sighed, perching himself on a stool at the front of the room, “Pregnancy occurs in the womb, which is part of female genitalia. But that’s _not_ part of the discussion for today. We won’t discuss the parts of the male and female genitalia until next week. Today’s discussion is an introduction to how bodies develop through adolescence.”

“You mean like getting hair down there?” Bucky piped up from the other side of the room, to which the class broke out into giggles again.

Coulson rolled his eyes up to the ceiling and said, “Yes, James. Hair growth, enlargement of genitalia, bone expansion and solidification, and various and sundry other intricacies.”

“You get hair down there?” Steve whispered to Tony, looking a little mortified at the thought, “Isn’t—isn’t that _itchy_?”

“A bit,” Tony admitted, shrugging, “At first. It's just the hair follicle growing in. It isn’t too bad.”

Steve stared at Tony for a good thirty seconds before mouthing ‘what the hell,’ then sinking down in his chair and grunting at the pain. Tony covered it with a loud cough, smiling when Coulson looked over at them suspiciously. As soon as he turned away, Tony looked back over at Steve, trying not to laugh at his obvious pout.

“What? It’s okay if you haven’t dropped yet,” Tony whispered, wanting to reach out and pat Steve’s shoulder, “I’m just really early. It’ll happen eventually, I promise.”

“What if it doesn’t? What if I’m gonna be like this?” Steve blurted out, “I mean, with all my stuff, maybe—”

“Steve, you don’t have anything that imbalances your hormones like that,” Tony quickly soothed, “Maybe—I mean, you might not be _big_ , but it’ll happen.”

“Would you two stop comparing penis sizes over there? I’m trying to listen to Jane ask about shaving,” Pepper hissed from the other side of Tony, kicking his desk.

“Shut up, we are _not_ ,” Tony hissed back, kicking Pepper’s desk just as hard.

“What did she say?” Steve piped up.

“She said we’re comparing penis sizes.”

“What— _why would we do that_ —”

“Bucky and I did that,” Clint butted in, having returned from the office the period prior, “So far, I’m winning, but he also didn’t get that skin piece—”

“Foreskin.”

“Foreskin, thanks Tones, he didn’t get the foreskin cut off or whatever, so it’s hard to tell.”

“Oh my god,” Steve muttered, putting a hand on his forehead, “You guys are so messed up.”

“It’s actually fairly normal,” Coulson said from behind them, causing the boys to yelp in surprise, “I won’t suggest you do so, but young men are often curious about their growth cycle, and in the pursuit of answers, will compare their genitalia size to those of other young men in their peer groups.”

“If you say genitalia again, I’m going to jump out of the window,” Sam grunted, at which Bucky nodded.

“Then I’d suggest you have your friends stay quiet,” Coulson answered simply, walking through the row of desks to return to the front of the room.

 “Yeah, Mom, shut up,” Bucky grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

Tony stuck his tongue out at him and sunk into his seat, tapping his fingers against his desk as he watched the clock on the wall tick by. They had Phys Ed today, which meant that Tony had to meet up with Natasha (as planned) and use her makeup (not fun). He also hoped she managed to snag her mom’s setting powder, so the concealer wouldn’t run when he got sweaty. Last time that had happened, Steve had almost noticed the bruising on his arms, and that shit was not going to fly this time.  It was bad enough that here he was, wearing a long-sleeved turtleneck in the middle of April, just to hide the purpling handprints on his body from Steve.

He was just glad that he had worn two pairs of underwear so he could actually sit on his bottom without squirming in pain.

 “Alright, class dismissed,” Coulson finally said, starting to erase the whiteboard, “Head to the soccer field after lunch. It’ll be a good warmup for the game after school today.”

There was a small cheer—since most of the soccer team was in Tony’s class—but Tony himself was oddly silent. He gathered up his books and slunk out of the room, quickly stuffing everything into his locker before grabbing his lunchbox. Sneaking around Steve, he quickly dashed over to Natasha’s side, following her like a lost puppy down to the most unused bathrooms in the school. As soon as they were inside and Natasha had checked the stalls, Tony locked them in, going to plop himself down in front of her on the floor.

“How bad is it?” She asked, peeling off a strip of cheese from her cheese stick and popping it into her mouth.

“Not good,” Tony murmured, unpeeling an orange and slowly chewing down a few slices, “Worse than usual. Mom let him back into the liquor cabinet since he didn’t bring anyone home for a week.”

Natasha squinted at him, then nodded, finishing her cheese and moving onto a sleeve of crackers. That’s what he loved about her; she never got angry at Howard or him, just passively took in the information and helped where he let her. Sure, he knew she got frustrated with him, but he also knew that she was just glad to be helping where Tony wouldn’t even let _Steve_ in.

“I got mom’s powder, but it’s hot today, so you need to not go tackling people again,” She said, opening her makeup kit and setting it aside, “Ask Coach Richards to let you practice defense.”

Tony nodded, uncapping his sports drink and swigging down half of it. He realized he’d already eaten through his lunch, so he scooted to sit in front of the tall mirror, watching as Natasha rifled through her makeup kit and got to work. She made him take off his shirt, so he looked away and tugged it off, not wanting to see her emotionless face staring at the gross mottling on his body. Instead, he felt her fingertips press against his belly, where he knew scrapes were still crusty with dried blood.

“She forgot to throw away the empty bottles before he called for me,” Tony explained quietly.

Natasha stared him down without judgment in her eyes, but the crawling feeling of shame latched onto his neck anyway, making him hang his head to not meet her gaze. Instantly, her hand was in his hair, manicured nails delicately scratching his scalp.

“Do not blame yourself. This is not your fault,” She said quietly, “I wish we could help—”

“You tried. It’s fine,” Tony murmured, thinking back to elementary school, “Just a few more years, then I’ll be in college and he can’t get me anymore.”

Of course, that night when nearly his entire _class_ found out about his home life, Steve had gone home and tattled to his mom Sarah. He pictured Steve with his fierce eyes and mouth twisted in the upset frown that he got when he was especially bothered about something, parading around his house as Sarah tried to calm him down. Being an adult, she called Child Protection Services, but the rumor was paid off before the news outlets could even catch wind of the event. Since then, Tony had tried to run away from home multiple times, but that always ended in getting beat worse than before. Sarah had offered her home to him, but Tony had told her—and Steve—that things were better and that he was okay.

Things were far from okay.

“ _белка_ , he will always follow you, even if you go away to school,” Natasha said quietly, starting to dab foundation onto Tony’s bruising, “It is how bullies are. Something should be done.”

“Like what? Live at Steve’s for the rest of my life and put him and Sarah in danger? He’s sent people to get me before, and…”

His voice broke and Natasha’s hand was in his hair again, giving him the strength to take a breath and collect himself. He stayed quiet as she worked, except for his sneezing when she liberally applied the setting powder.

“You should be alright,” she said after a long silence, packing up the makeup and handing Tony his shirt, “If you sweat a lot, do not let the others touch you, or it will come right off.”

“Yeah, I know. Thank you, Tasha,” he mumbled, leaning over to press a kiss to her cheek, “Sometimes it feels like you’re the only one who gets it.”

Tony gathered up his lunchbox and hightailed it from the bathroom, missing the look of concern and shame on Natasha’s face. Instead, he dropped off his lunchbox at his locker and grabbed his soccer things, racing to the boys’ locker room to change into his gear and head out to the field. Some of the others were already out and kicking the ball around; from where he stood, Tony could see Steve’s slumped figure sitting on the sidelines. It broke his heart that Steve was being made to sit out, but he knew Steve needed to be coddled and babied a bit more than he usually allowed, so he didn’t feel _that_ bad. Really, he knew he was just going to miss having him by his side on the field to pass fancy footwork back and forth.

“Hey,” he said as he approached the bench, plopping down next to Steve.

“Where were you? You missed lunch again,” Steve asked immediately, scooting so their shoulders were touching.

“Studying,” Tony lied easily, having told it multiple times over already, “Tasha was helping me with some stuff. Hey, have you thought about asking Coach if you could be his assistant? You’ve always been good at where we should be on the field and who should be doing what. And it’d keep you with us for games and stuff.”

The change in topic seemed to sate Steve’s curiosity, so Tony smiled, leaning his head on Steve’s shoulder as he started to talk about _tactics_ and _team cohesiveness is important, Tony, its what makes this team work so well_ , and _you’re sweating into my shoulder, you’re so gross—_

“Mmm, you love my sweat, don’t lie to me,” Tony laughed, grinning at Steve’s grumble of annoyance, “Fine. I’ll get up, go kick the ball a bit, and then we can hang out until the game.”

He paused.

“You are staying for the game, right?” he asked carefully, leaning up to gage Steve’s reaction, “I still need my best fella by my side, even if you’re benched.”

“…Yeah, I’m staying. Mom is coming too,” Steve grumbled in embarrassment, folding his arms over his chest, “She wanted to make sure I stayed.”

“Good. I love Miss Sarah,” Tony purred, forcing out a giggle instead of a yelp when Steve smacked his arm, “What! I _am_ her favorite, after all.”

“You just suck up to her and bat your doe eyes at her, you gremlin, you can’t fool me,” Steve tried to scold, giggling back.

“Oh, I have doe eyes?”

“Shut _up_ , Tony.”’

He laughed and knocked his shoulder against Steve’s, biting his lip to keep from smiling too wide. It was no secret that he adored Steve, considering half of their class still called them Mom and Dad from how close they were, but he _adored_ Steve, way beyond what Clint and Sam relentlessly teased them about. With that, Tony leaned over to press a kiss to Steve’s cheek and heaved himself up off the bench, jogging out to the field to start practicing for the game. He always liked to practice against Thor and Bucky, since they were much bigger than him; it allowed him to work on his footwork, weaving in and out of their legs to score goals. By the end of the practice, Tony was heaving something fierce, forcing himself to not wipe away his sweat for fear of taking off the makeup.

“Alright, everyone, go get a drink. We’re done for now,” Coach Richards called after blowing his whistle, “Stark, can I see you for a minute?”

Tony grunted and jogged over, putting his hands on his hips as he stared up at Richards.

“What’s up?” he panted, squinting in the sunlight.

“I’m putting you on goal,” Richards said, tapping his clipboard, “I want to try out Sam against that new Maximoff boy. He’s supposed to be quite speedy.”

“So…I’m not defense?” Tony asked, feeling his heartbeat quicken.

_Oh shit. Oh shit, oh shit—_

“Sorry, not for this game. You’ll be back on next week, though, don’t worry.”

Tony nodded and practically sprinted away, heading back into the school to skid toward the changing room. He stripped out of his gym clothes and put on his soccer uniform, staring at himself in the mirror. As an afterthought, he fished his headband out of his bag, putting it on to hold his long curls back.

 _I need a haircut_. _Oh, and Coach is making you play the one position where you’ll take the most hits, so you need to find Thor and get the stuff._

More specifically, he meant finding Thor’s estranged younger brother who always managed to have drugs somewhere on his person, always ready to offer up a price. Usually, Tony wasn’t one for drugs since they lowered his inhibitions and made it difficult for him to think, but if he was going to get slammed on his bruises by Hank McCoy’s legendary outside kicks, he needed something to numb his—

“Don’t even think about it.”

Tony shrieked in surprise, whirling around to see Bruce standing behind him, nonchalantly cleaning his glasses off with his shirt.

“How long have you been there?” He demanded, only to immediately reel back his tone at a simple glance, “Ah, sorry. You scared me.”

“I’ve been here since you walked in, I was in the stall,” Bruce snorted, rolling his eyes, “But I know what that look on your face is, and it isn’t worth it. I already checked with Loki today, and he’s clean this week. Something about his mom being in town.”

“Fuck,” Tony grunted under his breath, crossing his arms over his chest, “…Wait. How—”

“How else do you think I deal with my anger issues? Expensive therapy?” Bruce said, shrugging, “Also, you carry yourself differently after Howard has an episode. You hunch more, like you want to hide.”

“I’m…impressed at your observational skills,” Tony said slowly, “But if you tell Steve—”

“I won’t. Promise. I don’t want to get in the middle of that mess.”

Tony frowned, but nodded anyway; whenever he and Steve got into fights, they were often explosive, and knowing Bruce, he would want to stay as far away from that as possible. Quickly packing up his bag, Tony offered Bruce a two-fingered salute, jogging back out of the school and to the field to see that the stands were starting to fill with parents from both teams.  He dumped his backpack into the pile of his teammates’ bags, grinning when Clint tossed him a water bottle.

“Who’s up today?” He asked, uncapping the water.

“McCoy, no surprise. Apparently, Erik put his own kid in, Pietro,” Clint said, nodding toward a scrawny boy with grey hair dressed in the Xavier school’s classic yellow and black soccer uniform.

“Yeah. Richards is having Sam play him and putting me on goal.”

“For real? So Thor’s not on goal?”

“No. He’ll probably be McCoy’s opposite.”

“Ah,” Clint nodded, elbowing Tony when Richards blew his whistle, “Let’s get in there, yeah?”

“Yeah, just give me a moment.”

Tony set his water aside and jogged over to the stands, finding Steve sitting with Sarah in their usual spot. Grinning, he sidled up next to Steve, going up on his tiptoes.

“Really?” Steve snorted, rolling his eyes.

“Yes, please. I need my lucky charm,” Tony purred, waggling his eyebrows.

Sarah laughed next to Steve, who flushed and leaned down, planting a kiss on Tony’s forehead. When he pulled back, Tony frowned, pouting until Steve sighed.

“…Kisses for my lovely wife,” he mumbled, embarrassment tinting his cheeks.

“Thank you, darling. Now I’ll go kick their asses for you.”

“Language, Anthony!” Sarah admonished him as he ran back onto the field, giggling.

Taking his place between the goalposts, Tony got into position, waiting for Richards’ whistle to begin. Thankfully, soccer came as second-nature to him, as it was nothing but complicated chess on a field. The X-Men were particularly easy to play against, considering each of the team members tended to have their own moves or skill sets that were easy to pick out. However, the last thing Tony expected was to have the new kid manage to zip up, kick up and roundhouse the ball directly into his chest to slam up into his chin, fast enough that it knocked him backward into the net. Groaning, Tony rolled over in the grass, clutching at his chest as pain flared in his small body; he heard Clint yelling at him, but he pushed himself to his knees, only to vomit into the grass as the pain started to become unbearable.

“Hey, Tony, we’re right here,” Bucky’s voice came from his left as gentle arms encircled him, “Coach is calling 911—”

“No! No hospitals, I can’t—I can’t go to a hospital,” Tony panted, trying (and failing) to push Bucky away, “I don’t—I’m fine, really—”

He threw up again, and it didn’t take long for the familiar sounds of asthmatic breathing to reach his ears, signaling Steve’s arrival. The arms left his waist and were replaced with Steve’s bonier arms, pulling him up and into the blond’s lap. Tony tried to squirm free, but Steve held close, wheezing into Tony’s hairline.

“I got you, I got you,” he whispered, trying to wipe the sweat off of Tony with his shirt, “You’re okay. I got—Tony?”

Feeling pain rise up from where Steve was touching his neck, Tony knew Steve could see his bruising and that the makeup had come off. With a shaky laugh, Tony tried to look up, only to feel nauseous again, rolling in Steve’s arms to dry heave, spitting onto the ground to attempt to get the foul taste out of his mouth.

“You said you would tell me if he did this again,” Steve whispered softly, sounding broken, “Tony, I thought—I could have _helped_ , you know that you could have stayed with me and Ma, you never—”

“Alright kids, let the paramedics through,” Coach Richards cut them off.

Tony groaned as he was lifted up and put onto what he assumed was a stretcher, blinking slowly up at the sun. Or flashlight. Or whatever that bright thing in his vision was.

“He’s concussed,” An unfamiliar voice said as prodding on his arms made him squirm in pain, “And…I think we need to take him in for a formal exam.”

“No, please, I’m fine,” Tony begged, struggling against the arms that held him against the stretcher, “I don’t want to go to the hospital.”

“I’m calling Maria,” Sarah’s voice butted in, and a warm hand took his own, “Steve and I will come to the hospital with you, okay, love? Don’t worry, everything will be okay, I promise.”

“Please,” Tony begged again, blinking away tears as the sky above him started to move.

The noise around him was drowned out by a building pressure in his chest and skull, making him feel like his bones were filling with iced water and weighing him down. He remembered the sky, sunny and blue, changing to the white roof of the ambulance, to a flicker of the sky again and then the tiled ceiling of what he assumed was the hospital. A flurry of doctors came to his side, trying to get him to concentrate, answer questions, move limbs—

He was tired, but they wouldn’t let him sleep. They stuck a needle in his arm and gave him something that he wanted to pronounce, but his tongue felt heavy in his mouth. It felt like hours before a knock on the door caused him to sluggishly lift his head, only to smile as Sarah walked in with Steve running up to his bedside. Without prompting, he scrambled up onto the bed, ignoring Sarah’s chastising to delicately slot himself up against Tony’s side. Humming softly, Tony let his head plop over to rest on top of Steve’s, subconsciously snuggling into his warmth.

“Don’t you scare me like that ever again, Anthony Stark,” Steve whispered harshly, clearly upset from the ordeal, “I can’t—how long? How long have you been hiding—”

“It never stopped,” Tony answered truthfully, shame and guilt making his bottom lip quiver, “I didn’t—I didn’t want you to worry. You worry so much, and I can handle it—”

“Tony,” Sarah interrupted gently, moving to his other side to pick up his hand, “You can’t handle it, love. No one can. It’s not right to treat anyone in that manner, especially not you, darling.”

“Where’s Mom?”

When Sarah was silent, Tony picked his head up, trying to quell his swimming vision by squinting. He squeezed Sarah’s hand, panic swelling in his chest when she didn’t answer.

“Where’s Mom?” he repeated nervously, pretending he didn’t feel Steve’s arms tightening a fraction around him, “Where is she? Is she here yet?”

“She isn’t coming, Tony,” Sarah said, holding Tony’s hand a little tighter, “She’s sending Edwin to pick you up.”

_Oh._

“Oh,” he said miserably, sinking back into the pillows of the hospital bed, “When?”

“Not tonight, sweetheart,” She answered quietly, “There’s some other…stuff…to be worked out, first. Don’t worry, honey. We’re not going anywhere.”

“I’ve got you,” Steve murmured, carefully putting his leg over Tony’s to further entwine them, “They won’t take you from me again. I promise.”

Tony couldn’t help but giggle at that, turning to press his lips against Steve’s forehead as a silent thank-you. He closed his eyes against the swell of emotion that knotted up in his throat, but his body betrayed him and let the tears fall, turning into wracking sobs that made him feel raw and exposed. The arms around him became impossibly tight and it took all of his strength to keep from outright wailing.

“You don’t have to be strong anymore,” Steve was whispering to him his voice wavering despite his arms remaining strong around his waist, “I’m here. I’m not gonna let him hurt you anymore. I promise, Tony. I _promise_.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony does some reflecting at the beginning of his Junior year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Chapter contains mentions of suicidal thoughts/alcoholism/drug use. Please use caution.
> 
> As always, unbeta'd. Comments and kudos are really appreciated. Ask me questions over [@avengersasssemble](www.avengersasssemble.tumblr.com) on tumblr.com.

_“I’m not gonna let him hurt you anymore. I promise, Tony. I_ promise.”

The words echoed in Tony’s mind for the millionth time, hurting just as deeply as they did the first time he realized it was a lie. He was sprawled out on top of his high school’s main auditorium building, a nearly empty bag of weed next to him as he blew smoke circles into the sky from his latest joint. The marijuana helped ease the pain and aches from the fresh bruising that had been laid on top of the fading, yellowing marks, but there was no hope for it keeping up with his stream of consciousness. Combining that with the fact that it was the first day of his Junior year and that he’d already skipped two classes just to smoke, Tony had no problem closing his eyes and letting himself sink into the flashbacks of the shitshow that had been Sophomore year.

It was supposed to be one of his best years: he and Steve were closer than ever, Howard had been distracted with the newly minted _Stark Expo_ , his college classes were going exceptionally well, and he’d even made new friends at college, despite being the youngest in his courses. Then, Fury had announced that there was a new student exchange program, which meant there would be new students joining each grade. Tony had immediately been impressed by T’Challa, a prince from the African country of Wakanda who had come to America to learn more about customs to further his studies of international diplomacy. There had been Stephen, a tall, lanky fellow from Tibet who preferred sign language over speaking, and Danny, a chatterbox who was agile and skilled in multiple types of self-defense, who Tony immediately asked to teach him some moves.

Then, there was Peggy.

Margaret Carter, who insisted everyone called her Peggy, was a bombshell English girl, all legs and breasts with a no-nonsense attitude and an incredible wit that had the boys drooling and the girls scowling. She wore her hair in victory curls, seemingly stuck in the second World War with her Rosie the Riveter look and glossy red lips. She was _incredible_ , and Tony couldn’t deny it. He almost felt bad that she wasn’t his type, but after seeing how flushed Steve’s face became the first day she clacked into the room in her red stilettos, he felt nothing for her but jealous contempt.

It was bad enough that when he went home that evening, Maria had taken one look at him and asked if Steve was okay.  He’d ignored her and went to his room—it was almost worth the beating he received later that night for being rude.

Things spiraled from there: Steve spent less and less time with him, missing homework dates and movie nights to hang out with Peggy, taking her out to the joints that Tony used to frequent with him. The one time Tony had walked into _their_ diner and seen them sitting at _their_ booth, it took all of his willpower to make it home before breaking down into tears. Steve never seemed to notice—or care—that Tony didn’t return his texts or requests for homework help, sit with him at lunch, or even pick the seat next to him in their classes. When he’d finally worked up the balls to tell Steve he’d quit soccer because he couldn’t move as well anymore with the escalation of Howard’s beatings, Steve had said, “Oh, that’s nice, Tony.”

He’d gotten in touch with Loki the next break period, paid him 500 in cash for all the weed on him, and smoked out the boys’ gym room until it set the sprinklers off. Sure, he was caught, considering he reeked of marijuana, but Howard paid off the school to keep it quiet and beat him that night until he puked on the floor of the kitchen.

Looking back, the pain of Jarvis wrapping his broken rib still felt better than the dagger Steve had thrust into his back. He began to seek out the pain, no longer caring about keeping a low profile around Howard and staying out of his way. It was easy to jimmy the liquor cabinet open, and by the time he had drunk through a bottle of Howard’s favorite bourbon, his skin was too hot and clammy to really feel the fists and feet beating against it.

He invested in theatre-grade makeup. It was thick and easily covered the signs of abuse, even allowing him to stop asking Natasha for help. Secretly, he felt guilty when he told her he didn’t need the makeup anymore, as she smiled and squeezed his shoulder. He didn’t deserve the affection, not when he knew what he was doing to himself, but he couldn’t find it within him to care that much. After that, he distanced himself from the others, not wanting to accidentally out the situation he was in. He blamed his lack of time to hang out on college work—it wasn’t false, he did have a lot of homework to do, but he usually had it done within an hour. Even his college friend, Rhodey, asked him why he was spending less time at the college lab.

“Well, honeybear, Dad needs help with setting up for the Expo, so I’ve been working in his lab,” Tony had lied, flashing Rhodey one of his trademark smiles, “Have you missed me?”

“Considering you’re the one who writes up the reports? A little,” Rhodey had joked, shouldering Tony, “But for real man, I miss you. Text me when we can hang out and I’ll come over.”

Tony never texted.

Sophomore year became a flurry of drug-hazes on top of the auditorium, hiding from the others in the library, hiding from Howard until he could get into his liquor cabinet and the few week-long stints in the hospital and in rehab that never seemed to stick. When his friends asked where he had been, Tony waved it off as being with Howard on work-related business, learning the family trade, whatever he could come up with that they wouldn’t question as suspicious. He quickly noticed that their asking dwindled until it was only Bruce checking on him, eyeing him skeptically over his spectacles and humming in disbelief when Tony told him he was fine.

“Fines are for people who park in illegal places, Tony,” he’d said, plucking his glasses off to clean on his shirt, “You’re not fine. I’ll find out what it is, but I’d prefer it if you told me.”

Caught off-guard, Tony said, “Well, I’m not going to.”

“I didn’t say now. When you’re ready,” Bruce answered, putting his glasses back on, “I mean, I think I know what it is already, so I’m worried, Tony.”

It had been the last conversation Tony had with him until the summer of complete hell. He was juggling a few classes, which was fine, but he had finally decided to go to his and Steve’s spot behind the old oak near their former preschool, where they’d shared lunch and played house together. The school was long gone, replaced by nature, engulfing the tree up into a private getaway. Tony snuck into the brush, intent on climbing the tree, only to find Steve and Peggy, the latter’s skirt hiked up to her waist and her back against the tree, Steve trembling in front of her as he held her up, his pants clearly unbuckled and crumpled around his thighs. They didn’t see him, but he clearly saw them, and with that, he turned around and ran home, throwing out his cell in a random trashcan as he ran. He threw himself into his schoolwork and into the Expo, designing and patenting new biomedical technology, including a comfortable, lightweight back brace, designed to help young kids with scoliosis get back outside and play.

If it weren’t for the thought that perhaps Howard would bring him back to life and beat him to death again, he would have killed himself.

With that particular thought, Tony turned over on the roof, grabbing up the bag of weed to roll his last joint. Lunch was in a few minutes, and once that bell rang, he could get off the roof and head out to ease his munchies and be on time for Modern Physics. He’d scheduled all his general education courses in the morning, ones he could easily make up for in the summer, just so he could do this exact thing: sit on the roof, smoke, and mourn his own sanity and the loss of his best friend.

_Best friend. Don’t lie to yourself. You love him, you jackass. You love him, and you were too damn late._

Tony growled when his mind supplied _that_ word, squashing out his last joint and stashing the weed bag underneath the lip of the roof. Carefully, he made his way over to the drainpipe, intent on shimmying down the three flights to the ground. Right before he could swing his legs over, he made a quick calculation, decided he had about a 43% chance of dying if he landed just the right way. The odds really weren’t that good, but the THC in his system wasn’t exactly helping his decision making, and he had a few minutes until the bell rang, so if he went now—

“Tony! What the hell are you doing up there!”

Blinking through his haze, Tony leaned over to look over the edge, seeing Clint and Bucky on the ground, the former waving what looked like a frisbee at him.

“Seriously, man!  Get down from there! You’ll get hurt,” Bucky called up.

“I’ll be fine!” Tony shouted back, rolling his eyes.

He got a grip on the drainpipe, ignoring the boys’ calls as he tried to slide down. He’d barely started his way down when his foot slipped on a loose brick and the pipe creaked and bent off the building, not used to holding his weight. His hands let go and with no footholds, Tony ended up staring at the sky as he fell, thinking about how it was the same blue as Steve’s eyes.

_Thump._

Black.

Sweet, blissful, black.

And then he just had to fucking wake up, didn’t he? He heard himself groan, his head was swimming, so he moved to clutch at it, only to have his hand be stopped by a force around his wrists. Recognizing the leather cuffs, Tony’s eyes snapped open, taking in the hospital room, the bed he was bound to, the nauseating smell of antiseptic in the air, Bucky by his bed and holding one hand over his chest—

“Buck?” he croaked, relaxing once he realized who it was, “Wha—What?”

“You fell. Hit the ground like a sack of potatoes. You’re just lucky Clint and I were there to grab you,” Bucky said slowly, raising his right arm to show off his hot pink cast, “The others are pretty ticked, but they let me in since I was technically already back here. That, and it took pretty much the whole cavalry to keep Steve from bursting in here.”

“Why? Even Bruce could sit on him,” Tony snorted, “Why does he even care? And wh—wait. Holy shit, Bucky, what _happened_ to you?”

He grinned cheekily and flexed his arms, kissing each of his biceps and waggling his eyebrows at Tony.

“Stevie and I went to bootcamp for the summer,” he explained with a shrug, “Well, the second half, anyway. It was tough shit, but it helped me fill out. You should see him. Growth spurt kicked in at the same time, he’s a _dream_. He hates that I make fun of him for it.”

 _He was always a dream._ _My dream, at least_.

“Wow. Impressive,” Tony said instead, tugging on his cuffs to make him jingle, “Think you could let me out?”

“No can do,” Bucky said, shaking his head, “Natasha bullied the staff into telling us why they knew your blood type without asking and not so legally got a hold of your records. It’s just a safety precaution, Tony. Especially after last week.”

“I’ve been out for a week?” he said quietly, not at all surprised at Natasha’s actions.

Bucky bit his lip and nodded, patting Tony’s hand.

“We didn’t think you were going to make it. Split your head wide open, ribs were a mess—turns out it was just old breaks breaking again, but we didn’t know that. Someone forgot to mention things were still bad in the Stark household,” He said, staring at Tony, “Blood was everywhere. They put you in a medical coma. I thought I’d seen everything, but I’d never seen Thor cry, man. We really—we thought—”

He visibly swallowed and looked away, staring out the window as he took Tony’s hand in his own, squeezing it tightly.

“Howard tried to come to get you. So far, the NYPD has kept him at bay as they investigate, but we figure he’s just waiting for you to dispel rumors again, like you always do. Maria hasn’t shown up yet. Edwin, however, has been sitting outside your door for the past week waiting for you to wake up. Said you’ll need him when you decide to ask for his help.”

Tony let out a slow breath, attempting to melt back into the hospital bed. He tried to take it all in, make sense of it, but his brain was slow and foggy, no doubt from whatever they’d put in his drip. Sniffling, he turned to look at Bucky, gently squeezing his hand back.

“Yeah. I figure I will need him,” he said softly, “Need you guys too. Help me get over him.”

Bucky’s smile dropped at that, instantly turning into a hard stare.

“Get over _who_?” he asked darkly, “Who did this to you? I’ll kill him, Tones, I swear—Me and Clint and Tash, we’ll put him six feet under—”

Tony’s laugh was rough and forced him into a coughing fit, but it was still a laugh. He gratefully accepted the cup of water offered to him, drinking from the straw Bucky poked into his mouth. Once he’d had enough, he relaxed back against the bed, turning a dopey smile to him.

“You won’t,” he clarified, “Kill him, that is. You wouldn’t do Steve dirty like that.”

Bucky’s eyes nearly popped out of his head, making him look like a bubble fish. He was quiet for a second before standing, chair screeching as it scraped against the linoleum.

“Stay,” he said before turning and hurrying from the room.

“Not like I can go anywhere,” Tony grunted as he tugged on the cuffs.

He spent the next few minutes in a daze, looking over the room as he enjoyed whatever blissful concoction he was being given. It made him feel happy, happier than he’d been in a long time, and he giggled at the thought, turning a smile to the door when it creaked open again. Bucky held the door open, letting in Rhodey and Natasha. They immediately scurried to his bedside to wrap him up in an awkward hug, attempting to treat him gingerly.

“Dude, you never told me this much shit was going down,” Rhodey said first, pulling up his own chair to sit on Tony’s other side, “I knew things with your dad was strained, but hell, not like _this_. You know you can always talk to me, man. I might not be the best at advice, but I’m down for blowing shit up with you to help you feel better, and you know Mom would let you stay over if you needed it.”

“Thanks, buttercup,” Tony mumbled gently, “But…it’s not safe. I tried it with—I tried it before, and it ended in a mess of trouble. It’s easier this way.”

“Fuck easier if it means you try to kill yourself at the end of the day, Anthony,” Natasha said, sitting on the end of his bed, “I’m glad you’re not dead, just so I can kill you myself.”

“Natasha—”

“He had us _all_ worried, James. Do you know how difficult it is to smear waterproof mascara? That’s why its called _waterproof_. I have _never_ seen Virginia like this, Thor is going out of his mind, Bruce isn’t even _here_ because he’s afraid he’ll punch holes in the walls. Clint’s wadded-up paper balls miss the trashcan.”

That last statement surprised Tony the most, making him crease his brows in confusion.

“Clint missed?” he asked, ignoring Rhodey’s clearly confused look.

“Yes, you idiot, we all—fuck, Tony. You are not invincible, as much as you might think—”

“Hey, hey— _hey_!” Bucky shouted, keeping them from arguing, “Not why I brought you two in here. Tony, tell them what you told me right before I left.”

Tony spared him a glance, then stared down at the sheets covering his legs.

“I need help getting over Steve,” he said quietly.

The room was dead silent until Natasha yelled, “Are you _fucking_ kidding me,” just barely covering Rhodey’s “Who?”

“He is—was my best friend,” Tony explained with a wince, pretending not to watch Natasha stalk around the room, “He was my first friend in preschool, he befriended me for literally no reason other than liking my shirt, he was my first and only crush and I’ve been in love with him since he kissed me on the playground the first day I met him, god, Rhodes, he’s everything I’ve ever wanted and he threw me away for _her_.”

He felt the tears on his cheeks as he explained, years of pent-up pining breaking him wide open. His crying was loud enough to drown out the others’ hushed voices but couldn’t cover up the loud footsteps that ran down the hall, followed by the tell-tale running of someone in heels. Tony felt arms wrap around him and he leaned into the body, breathing in Rhodey’ comforting cologne as he cried into his chest.

“Then he doesn’t deserve you, Tones,” He was saying over the commotion, his mouth right by Tony’s ear, “You’re brilliant, funny, charismatic, charming—you’ve survived so much, and if he can’t see that because of some lousy girl, then he isn’t worth your time.”

“No, you don’t—you don’t understand,” Tony wailed, “He’s worth _everything_ to me! He _promised_ he wouldn’t let him hurt me anymore and he _broke that_ for _her—”_

The room fell into dead silence, save for Tony’s muffled sobs into Rhodey’s shoulder.

“Tony?”

He recognized the crack in the voice and tensed, not moving his face from Rhodey’s shoulder. He immediately sucked his sobs back in, trying to be as quiet as possible, like prey around its predator. Rhodey shifted the sheets up as best as he could to cover him, hushing him quietly before turning to the party.

“I’m guessing you’re Steve?” He said, “You need to leave without speaking any more than you already have, or I will remove you myself.”

“I like this guy,” Bucky said, immediately grunting after being hit by someone in the room.

Tony giggled at that, wishing he could bring his arms up to wrap about Rhodey.

“Yeah, you’re a good guy, honeybear,” he mumbled, “Should’a been stealing hugs from you sooner.”

“Shh, Tones, you can have all the hugs you want in a minute, okay?” Rhodey mumbled back, stroking a hand down his back, “Let me get—oh, jeez, the ginger took her heel off and has it against Steve’s neck, man. For real, who _are_ these people?”

“Tall? Pretty freckles? Yeah, Pep’s a dream girl. You’d like her,” Tony said, wanting desperately to look but not wanting to see Steve, “She’s…feisty. Pepper Potts.”

“She just single-handled marched him out. Damn. Now _that_ is a woman,” Rhodey whistled, easing Tony back once it was just them in the room, “Think you can hook me up?”

Tony laughed, sniffling as Rhodey reached up to wipe the last of his tears from his face.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll hook you up,” he agreed, offering one of his first real smiles in months, “Don’t take her to any bummy places, though. She loves being formal and uptight. Just your type.”

“Look, man, just because it’s the Air Force doesn’t mean we’re formal and uptight,” Rhodey grunted, an easy smile resting on his face anyway.

He reached over to grab the cup of water to offer to him, from which Tony happily took a small drink to ease his throat. Leaning back with a sigh, Tony sadly rustled his cuffs, turning a pleading look to Rhodey. He pouted ever so slightly, only to grin when Rhodey relented.

“Fine. But if anyone asks, you got out of them yourself,” he grunted, unlatching the cuffs, “You better not try anything. I’m not carrying that guilt around with me.”

“I won’t try anything,” Tony promised, stretching his arms up just to drape them around Rhodey’s neck, “I promise. Just want to hug you for real, honeybear.”

Rhodey gave him a look, but hugged him back anyway; Tony tried to melt into the warm hug, but knowing that Steve was out there and that he hadn’t even been able to see the look on his face…

“Do you want me to get him?” Rhodey asked, feeling Tony tense under him, “I mean, if it were me, I’d want to see him. Just to see him hurting. I don’t necessarily _recommend_ it, but if you want to get over him, it’d probably be best to rip it off like a plaster. Right?”

He sniffled when he pulled back, picking up the hospital sheets to play with in his hands.

“See, that’s the problem, Rhodes,” he sulked, “I know I should get over him. It’s been over a _year_. I should have gotten over him by now. But I haven’t—”

“You’ve known him since you guys ran around in diapers. It’s going to take awhile to get over him,” Rhodey said gently, “And it’s going to hurt real bad. But you’re not alone, Tones. Clearly, you’re not alone. If those two redheads are willing to try and nearly kill a man in cold blood in a public area for you, you’re not alone.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at that, nodding as he reached up to wipe the budding tears on his face.

“Right. You’re right,” he admitted, snuggling back into the hospital bed.

“Of course I’m right.”

“You’re pushing it.”

Rhodey laughed and squeezed Tony’s knee, standing up from his chair with a grunt.

“I’m going to go let Edwin in. He’s been waiting the longest of any of us. Is that okay?” he asked.

There was a long stretch of silence before Tony nodded, unable to look up from the bed. He stared at the ugly pattern on the sheets as he heard the door open and Jarvis’ familiar footfalls approach, stopping when he sat in Rhodey’s now unoccupied seat.

“Young Sir. I’m glad to see that you are awake,” He said softly, “Ana has been asking after you. She’s kept her hands busy with all sorts of sweets that I’m sure you’ll want to try once you return home.”

“I don’t know if I wanna go home, J,” Tony answered honestly, unable to help the fresh flow of tears when Jarvis reached over to take Tony’s small hand in his gnarled one, “I—with Dad, I just—”

“I know, Sir. I know. I wish I could have done more to protect you,” He interrupted, causing Tony to look up in surprise, “I wish Ana and I had been more perceptive. We always thought something was going on, but because your Mother told us differently, we had no reason to believe she was lying—”

“What? What did Mom say?” Tony asked, confused.

Jarvis visibly stilled, the guilt in his eyes betraying his confidence.

“She merely told us your father was having rough nights in the lab and had too much from the bottle. I would remind her of the times he had previously hit her when under such an influence, and even you the once when you were very small, but she assured us that the situation was handled and if we were to remain employed, to not ask questions,” he said, squeezing Tony’s hand, “Ana and I decided it would be best for us to stay and help under the radar, if we could. However, with your Mother knowing our suspicions, we could not help where we wanted to. We wanted nothing more than to keep you safe, and perhaps in our haste, we made the wrong decision.”

“Don’t put this on you, J. It’s always been them. Howard, in particular, but them. Never you. You did what you thought was right,” Tony mumbled, voice breaking.

“I suppose. But I’d like to try and make amends for it anyway.”

Jarvis sat back to reach into his inner suit pocket, pulling out a small album. He placed it on Tony’s lap, putting a finger on top of it to keep it closed.

“I’ve saved this since you arrived, Sir,” he explained, offering a gentle smile to him, “I was saving it to give to you upon your graduation, but I think it may serve you better now than then. Perhaps it can give you the answers you are looking for.”

With that, he stood, squeezing Tony’s shoulder and placing a kiss on his temple.

“What? J? What does that mean?” He asked, more confused than he was at the beginning of the conversation, “J?”

Jarvis shrugged and winked before leaving, closing the door behind him with a soft _click_ , leaving Tony alone with the album. He picked it up, opening it to the first page to see a black and white photo of a much younger Maria, sweaty and hair in disarray in a hospital bed, a large smile on her face as she cradled a baby in her lap. _Anthony Edward Stark_ was written on the bottom in Jarvis’ familiar script. Tony couldn’t help but smile as he flipped through the first few pages, seeing pictures of him and Maria playing together. Of course, the rare photos of him with Howard were at press conferences, with Maria holding him and Howard giving the camera a fake smile.

 _Have a boy to pass on the family name,_ he thought distantly, turning the page.

There in the middle of the next page was a colored polaroid, of two toddlers smushed together on the same small cot with familiar rabbit ears poking up between them. _Sent by Maria Hill. Anthony and his new friend Steve, Pre-Kindergarten_ , titled it. Tony choked back his tears as he shakily peeled the photograph up from the paper, remembering the day like it was yesterday, back when things were easy and free, and Steve liked it when he gave him dandelions.

 _They’re weeds, Tony. Not flowers_ , Steve had said to him in elementary, making a grossed-out face, _Ma says not to pick those._

Carefully smoothing the photo back into the album, Tony flipped to the next page, finding another picture of him and Steve, holding their mouths open to show the camera where they had simultaneously lost the same tooth. Each picture after that was the same; except for the one picture of him holding up his acceptance letter to MIT with a smirk, they were all of him and Steve, him with a drawing Steve made him, him waiting at the bus stop for Steve even though they had a chauffeur…

The very last picture was taken at the end of the summer before Sophomore year. Tony was looking up into the camera he was holding with a big grin, arm wrapped around Steve’s waist. Steve’s hand was on his chest and he was looking up at him, and even with just a photograph could he see the devotion pouring out of Steve’s eyes. He’d taken that picture the day before Peggy waltzed into their classroom.

 _Don’t blame her. This is on Steve_ , he reminded himself for the billionth time, closing the album.

As he closed it, a laminated piece of paper slipped out of the back of it, landing on his lap. He picked it up and turned it over, only to choke on his own gasp. There was Steve’s robot drawing from preschool, carefully secured to the paper to prevent any more rips and tears in it. The crumples and bits missing were just as Tony remembered them before he’d tossed it in the trash last year.

 _For when you doubt true love_ , was written in erasable marker on the bottom, still in Jarvis’ handwriting.

It clicked.

Tony fumbled for the call-nurse button, pressing it rapidly until he heard shoes running down the hall. When the harried nurse opened the door, he quietly asked for Steve. The nurse nodded and left, giving him mere seconds to think through what he was going to say.

 _I have no idea what to say_ , was all he managed before a fist poked through the door opening to knock, followed by Steve’s face.

Steve’s red, blotchy, tear-stained and oddly bruised face.

“You look like shit,” Tony said, having to bite back his smile from how proud he was of his friends.

“Feel it, too. Can I come in?” he asked, looking around, “No one’s going to jump me, right?”

“Unless I get out of my leg shackles, no, it’s just me,” he said, rolling his eyes.

Steve hesitated, then carefully stepped into the room. Tony felt his eyes widen and his jaw drop, but didn’t realize he was staring until the other boy flushed and stared at his feet.

“Buck probably told you we went to boot camp,” Steve explained, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck, “Kinda…stretched me out a bit.”

“ _Kind of?_ ” Tony shrieked, “You’re over six feet tall! You’re _huge_! Look at your tits, dude, you are bimbo-level busty—”

“Hey!” Steve complained, pouting at Tony’s giggles, “It’s not my fault. I just kind of had a growth spurt, and all that training went right to my upper body. Sam keeps calling me ‘Captain Small Ass’ because of it.”

“Rightfully so,” He said, grinning when Steve purposefully sat down in the chair next to his bed.

They looked at each other for a few quiet moments; Tony looked away first, fingering the album in his lap as he tried to think of what to say. Thankfully, Steve filled the silence.

“I know that an apology won’t cover the shit that’s happened to you in the last year, but I’m sorry. And I also know that’s not good enough, and never will be good enough. I’m sorry that I let you down, as both a person and my best friend. I should have—it doesn’t matter what I should’ve done, I guess. I didn’t do it, and you got hurt again, and I told you I’d never let that happen again. I fucked up, Tony.”

“Oof, language,” Tony murmured, lips twitching into a smirk at Steve’s sheepish laugh.

“Uh, yeah. Ma’s not happy I picked that up from camp. She’s not happy that you haven’t been coming around, either. Every time I brought—uh, not you, home, she’d get on my case. Said I needed to keep an eye on you, said it’s not fair that she doesn’t get to see the baby of the family anymore. I told her you were busy with college, but she said that wasn’t like you. Said you didn’t get busy with school, just with Howard.”

It was quiet again, but Tony felt more coming down the line, so he got himself comfortable in the bed.

“Peggy asked about you a lot. I’ve got all our pictures up still, y’know. She asked about them and why you weren’t around and…and I guess I was just so taken with her and everything that I never—I didn’t—”

Tony closed his eyes, so he didn’t have to see Steve getting choked up.

 _He deserves this_ , he thought.

 _No, he doesn’t. Neither of you deserve what’s happening_ , a second voice said.

_Fuck off._

“We ended things, by the way. We never actually became official, never got past first base, nothing. She left for England, said I was nice and all, but that I needed to get my head out of my ass and that she’d send me her address for letters.”

Tony’s head snapped up.

“But—the oak?” He asked, thoroughly enjoying the deep shade of red that Steve’s face was turning.

“Never got past firstbase,” Steve repeated firmly, looking down at the ground, “She—uh, she wanted to, but—all I could think of is that you really loved to share your blueberries with the robins that used to nest in that tree. Not exactly mood-worthy.”

“…What?” He croaked.

Steve shrugged.

“The more I thought about it, the more I realized that most of the time, when I was doing things with her, I was thinking of you,” he confessed, wringing his hands in his lap, “She hated the milkshakes in the fourth street diner, you know.”

“But they’re the best!” Tony blurted, “They use real ice cream!”

“I know!” Steve gasped back, finally picking his head up, “She said they were too thick.”

“But that’s the best _part!_ ”

“Exactly!... Exactly,” Steve said, much quieter the second time, “We…we were okay. But we weren’t us.”

“There was no us, Steve,” Tony said flatly, the mood completely wiped out, “There _is_ no us. You—you _chose_ her over me. You thought with your dick.”

“I know, I know. Believe me, I’ve had—I’ve thought about it. I tried to ask the others how you were since you pretty much ran away every time I tried to talk to you,” Steve continued quickly, “Nat and Bruce were tight-lipped, and none of the others knew anything other than you were taking courses. I really—I thought you didn’t want to hear from me anymore. I thought that space would help, but—”

He nibbled on his bottom lip, then shook his head, looking back up at Tony.

“It’s no excuse. I fucked up, I hurt you, and then you got even more hurt because I did what I thought was right for both of us without ever asking you. And I’m way past looking for forgiveness, mostly because I know I don’t deserve it. I just—I don’t want you to hurt like this, Tony. Ma’s working with the authorities, and she thinks she’s got a really good case, even if Howard brings out his best lawyers. We’ve all volunteered to testify, too. Plus, she thinks she can get Maria to help. Even—even if you don’t want me around anymore, I wanted to do _something_. I promised that he wouldn’t ever hurt you again. I meant it, I swear I meant it, and if it means I go to your house and strangle him _myself_ so his hands don’t _ever_ touch you again—”

“Steve, honey, breathe,” Tony said calmly, reaching out with both hands to take Steve’s shoulders, “Stay with me, okay? You’re starting to hyperventilate, you’ll set off your asthma if you’re not careful.”

Steve blinked, then burst into tears, his large shoulders heaving with the force of his cry. Bewildered, Tony tried to pat his back, utterly confused.

“Steve? You okay?” He asked slowly, catching movement out of the corner of his eye, “Hey, should I get a nurse? Are you—”

“ _Tony_ ,” Steve said brokenly, “I grew—I grew out of my asthma at the beginning of last year—have—have I not—this whole time?”

“Steve, that’s great! We never thought you would grow out of it, that’s amazing—what,” Tony said, arms up as Steve’s hulking figure wrapped him up in a hug, “Steve? Alright, big guy, it’s alright, you’re alright—”

He tried to pat Steve’s back again, but he really was much bigger than Tony ever remembered and had trapped his upper arms in his hug, so Tony settled for putting his hands on the sides of Steve’s torso, gently rubbing circles to try and comfort him.

“Hey, come on, this isn’t like you,” He tried, starting to feel his shirt collar get wet, “I’ve never seen you this upset, it’s—we can—shit, Steve, I’ve been high out of my mind for a year wishing you’d just talk to me again, I know I’m not going to be able to dump you on your ass like that, okay? Fuck, man. The worst year of my life has been the one where you’re not in it. I’m not stupid enough to ignore that. Alright? We—we won’t be what we were, but we can get there. I think. I need a hell of a lot of therapy first.”

Steve nodded and sniffled when he pulled back, ducking his head into his shirt for a second to wipe off the tears and snot on his face. Shakily, he sat down on the edge of the bed, clutching at Tony’s hand.

“I don’t—I don’t want to be what we were, either,” he said, rubbing the rest of the tears off of his face, “If we’re getting it all out there. I don’t. Peggy—I realized—fuck, Tony. I was attracted to her because she was you with curves and when I realized she just wasn’t you I—”

“Had a gay crisis?” Tony asked, wincing at Steve’s nod.

“Kind of. I mean, I knew I had a thing for fellas. You just didn’t kiss your best friend when you were in middle school,” he sniffled, “But I never really thought—I didn’t put a name on it. I figured it was just you, and that you did things to me, and that was that. Ma nearly laughed me to death when I told her though. She said, “it’s about time,” and told me we were having barbeque for dinner. And—look, I don’t expect you to—”

“Oh, no. Same. Me too. Dudes, I mean. Yes. Absolute yes,” Tony said quickly, stumbling over his words, “I just—with Howard and all. J knows. Mom probably does. But yes. Dudes are a yes.”

They stared at each other for a moment, the emotions and the weight of the situation somehow both heavier on their shoulders and also lifted. After a second, they laughed until Steve started to cry again, hanging his head until his chin touched his chest.

“Oh, honey, no,” Tony sighed softly, inwardly wondering why he hadn’t punched Steve yet and kicked him out, “C’mere. None of that. Come on.”

He pulled Steve into the bed, somehow tucking the larger boy up against him. Sure, the pressure irritated his now itchy bandaging, but Steve was back in his arms, _Steve_ was _his_ —

“I want—I want to do therapy with you,” Steve was saying, pulling him out of his thoughts, “I want to be there with you, for all of it. I missed—I fucked up so much already. I want to be there for you, more than ever, and—”

“Shh, Steve, we’ll get there,” Tony shushed, having to set the photo album aside so he wouldn’t have to worry about it falling off of his lap, “It’s alright. We’ll get there. It might not be right away, and I’ll need time, but we’ll get there. Okay? I didn’t share my blueberries with you just to toss you on your ass.”

Steve choked a watery laugh into his neck, and by the familiar, father-like smile and nod from the doorway, Tony knew he’d done the right thing, even if it might bite his ass later.

_You hope he bites your ass later—_

_Will you_ please _shut up?_


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They have to grow up sometime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally finished... Unbeta'd. Comments and kudos are really appreciated. Ask me questions over @avengersasssemble on tumblr.com.

"Sweetheart! We need to get going or we’re going to be late!” Tony called up the stairs, fumbling with his jacket zipper for a moment before finally getting it hooked and zipping up the stupid jacket.

Nearly two years had passed since he’d fallen off the roof of the auditorium and he’d only recently gotten his full motor function back. The physical therapy was paying off, considering his hands no longer shook when they were by his sides, but simple actions still gave him a little trouble. This time, he’d triumphed, which caused a warm knot to form in his belly when his boyfriend came down the stairs to see his handiwork.

“Hey! Nice work, baby,” Steve cooed, pulling Tony over by the zipper to get a better angle for kissing the side of his lips, “See? I told you that you were getting much better. You’ll be back to welding in no time.”

“Yeah, I’m over having your meaty paws all over my work,” Tony said, laughing as he tilted his head to kiss Steve properly, “Mmm, you need a coat. It’s a brisk day.”

“If I don’t bring one, I get to take yours.”

“I zipped it today, so it's not coming off ‘til I say so. Get a damn coat.”

Steve giggled and walked off toward the coat closet, leaving Tony to watch him go, eyes glued to his ass for a moment before dragging his gaze up to his tiny waist and impossibly broad shoulders. It was still weird seeing Steve, _his_ Steve, filled out like some sort of jock hopped up on steroids, but he had to admit that the strength was something he’d grown to love.

Especially during their joint therapy sessions.

Of course, they’d had their own shit to work out, but once their prescribed therapist let them start having sessions together, Steve had made sure to hold Tony’s hand tight, even if both of them were shaking. Tony had to talk the most, which was incredibly strange for both of them. He was used to being the quiet one, letting Steve’s warm baritone fill up the space, but this time it was his own soft voice that had to come out. He’d been asked all sorts of questions about Steve, their relationship, if Steve had ever pressured him, did he ever feel unsafe—

He’d nearly clocked the therapist for that one, but Steve had dragged him into his lap and held him tight, shushing him softly and telling him an assault charge wasn’t going to help anything. It took him a few minutes to settle down after that, but he’d stayed perched on Steve’s lap, arms laid over top of those wrapped around his waist. The contact was warm and comforting and it didn’t take long for their therapy sessions to move from sitting on each other to cuddling on the couch. If he thought about it, Tony knew they’d always been like that; whenever Steve was close, they were touching, almost desperate to feel each other underneath their fingertips.

According to Rhodey, it was, quote, “disgusting.”

Tony had just stuck his tongue out at him, only to shriek when Steve tried to give him a sloppy kiss. They’d laughed and rolled off of the couch in a tangle of limbs, giggling to each other as they settled into their new position. That was six months ago, the night after they’d officially moved in together for the last few months of high school before he headed off to MIT and Steve returned to training. Steve kept him on top of his new anxiety medication, he nagged Steve into doing his daily journaling, and they were content being together.

Now, with graduation on the horizon and college just over the hill, it was difficult to watch Steve be so domestic when Tony knew that Steve was going to have to leave him for months at a time. Sure, they’d have texting and snail mail, but he thrived on touch, and not having him there—

Tony shook the thought from his head and smiled at his boyfriend, taking his hand once he was ready to leave. They had suit fittings booked for the morning; Steve grew out of his last one, and Tony was always in the market for new threads, especially since he wanted to celebrate graduation with something flashy. Technically, they had already picked out the suits they wanted, and this was a final alterations check. Steve had chosen a tuxedo in navy brought in at the waist to accentuate his shoulders and chest, with straight pant legs to draw the eye upward. When he stood on the short platform and looked at himself in the mirror, straightening out the cuffs and collar, Tony had to sit down or risk creaming himself in front of the tailor.

“Holy shit,” he breathed, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip as he let his eyes drag over Steve’s body, “You look—oh God, you look so good, you’re not allowed to wear anything else ever again, I _mean_ it, Steven, don’t laugh at me.”

“I thought you liked my camo best,” Steve teased, looking at Tony through the mirror.

“I believe I said I liked you in only your dog-tags.”

“Tony! We are in _public_.”

“And?”

Steve gave an exasperated sigh and rolled his eyes, but his smile was fond. Tony grinned and watched his boyfriend fiddle until it was his turn to go, gently easing himself up off of the chair.

“Okay, your turn to get hard,” he said, wheezing out his laughter at Steve’s embarrassed sputtering.

Tony happily skipped back to the changing room to strip, tossing his clothes on top of Steve’s neatly folded pile before shimmying into his suit. He’d gone with a wine-colored tux, accented in the buttons and peak lapels with black silk. Originally a modern fit, he’d asked it to be brought in as much as possible, to the point where the material hugged him like a plastic bag that had all the air sucked out of it. He looked _banging_.

“Alright, prepare to be amazed by—Steve?”

Tony stepped back out into the main room and paused, noticing a distinct lack of boyfriend in the room. He went over to peek into the main store and found him animatedly talking on the phone, his voice too quiet to hear. Rolling his eyes, Tony skipped over to the mirror to look himself over, turning on his heels to check out his ass from three different angles. He waited another fifteen minutes before going to check on Steve again, becoming concerned when he saw that he was still on the phone, pacing the front of the store. Making an executive decision, Tony gathered up their clothes and stuffed them in one of the store’s purchases bags, scurrying out to the register to hand over his card to pay. The woman working the counter gave him a tight smile as he nearly swiped his card back once the transaction was done, immediately hurrying to Steve’s side to see what was wrong.

“Yeah, Buck. I know. Yeah—uh, Tony’s here, I gotta go, okay?” Steve was saying, turning at Tony’s hand on his elbow, “I’ll email you once I hear more. Yeah. Okay. Thanks, Buck. Bye.”

“Everything okay?” Tony asked once Steve had hung up, leading them both outside to sit on a bench.

Steve was quiet for a moment, brows furrowed as he nibbled on his lip in thought. He turned to Tony and took both of his hands in his own, squeezing them lightly as he smiled softly.

“I love you,” he said simply, immediately making Tony go into high alert.

“What happened?” he asked, rolling over whatever Steve was going to say next, “Who died? Do I need to kill someone?”

“Tony,” Steve chided, squeezing his hands again, “Let me get through this, sweetheart. Okay?”

Tony fidgeted nervously, but he nodded, attempting to be quiet so Steve could talk.

“I got a call from my contact in the Army,” he said softly, “I’m getting deployed the day after graduation.”

It was silent for a moment as Tony took it in, eyes slowly widening at the information.

_Deployed—_

“Ah, ah. Let me finish. It’s a six-year term, but I’ll have holidays off and a month here and there to come home. It’s—It’s a really good opportunity, Tones. What they want me to do requires a high clearance, the pay is good and I can go _help_ people, honey. Plus, we can still talk, I’ll have a satellite phone and you won’t even be thinking about me while you’re off making the world a better place at MIT.”

“No, no _Steve_ , you can’t leave,” Tony said hoarsely, blinking through the tears that were already stinging his eyes, “Not—not for six years, I need you _here_ , with me—”

Steve shushed him and reached up to cup his cheeks, pulling him in for a soft kiss. He could feel Tony’s lips shaking under his own, so he moved his hands down to squeeze his arms, pulling away and resting their foreheads together with a smile.

“I will be, partially,” he said confidently, a whisper of a smirk on his lips, “After we get married, that is.”

 _That_ made Tony’s brain halt. A thousand synapses fired, but all he did was stare back at Steve, open-mouthed and clearly confused.

“We’re already in suits,” Steve continued on, reaching into the bag to rifle for his jeans, “And, because I’m always prepared—”

With a triumphant huff, he pulled out the pants and reached into the right pocket, pulling out a small gold band. He turned to Tony and carefully picked up his left hand, a watery smile threatening to spill over as he slipped on ring onto Tony’s finger.

“Perfect,” he whispered, giggling as he watched Tony look at the ring, then at him, then back at the ring, holding it up to the light.

“Are you for _real_?” Tony shrieked, finally managing to pull words out of his mouth, “How—when—Steve, _me_?”

“Sweetheart, I married you in preschool. This is just a technical formality,” Steve said, grinning at Tony’s watery laugh, “We can go to the City Clerk right now, sign the paperwork and everything. We don’t have to tell anyone if you want to keep it between us. We can graduate as _husbands_ , and no one would think any differently. That way, it also means you get explicit permission to hear from me more often. I can definitely swing something.”

It was…a lot to take in.

Tony started up his breathing exercises, mentally counting through them as he tried to keep himself calm, attempting to come to terms with the news and the surprisingly comforting weight on his hand.

“…Yes,” he finally said, tears finally rolling down his cheeks, “God, Steve, of course I’ll marry you, you _idiot_ , you should have asked before you dropped that bomb on me, what am I going to do when we don’t get a real wedding or honeymoon or _anything_ because you’re _gone_?”

He was barely understandable through his sobs at that point, but Steve’s arms drew him in and held him close to Steve’s chest, as warm and as solid as he had always been. He let himself cry, soaking up Steve’s comforting whispers and the gentle scratches on his scalp until he suddenly remembered their newest plans for the day.

“Fuck, I cried all over your tux. You can’t get married in a tear-stained tux,” Tony sniffled, pulling back to rub at his eyes.

“Baby, I’m going to cry, even if the ceremony is some random old dude having us sign our names on a piece of paper,” Steve said, his voice clearly wet with emotion, “C’mon, I can’t stand not being married to you any longer.”

He stood up and pulled Tony with him, sharing messy, sloppy kisses as they nearly ran the four blocks down to city hall. They were catcalled and whistled at a few times, but Tony didn’t care, he was going to be _Tony Rogers_ in less than an hour and Steve was going to be _his_. Just as they were about to stumble into the building, he pulled them to a halt, earning a confused grunt from Steve. Grinning wildly, Tony crouched down and picked dandelions and a few grass leaves from the lawn, hearing Steve laugh behind him once he realized what he was doing.

“I need a bouquet,” Tony said once he was back in Steve’s arms, giggling into their umpteenth kiss.

“You do. It's perfect, I love it, I love _you_ ,” Steve gasped, pushing Tony into the building, much to the disgust of the people around them.

“We’re getting _married_!” Tony yelled, earning cheers and a few shushes.

Steve waved apologetically to a nonplussed secretary, following her pointed finger toward a hallway. They stumbled down until they reached the marriage certification office, both flushed and disheveled when they burst through the door. Without hesitation, Tony flicked out his wallet and opened it, digging out an obscene amount of money to slap onto the counter in front of a slightly terrified intern.

“We need a marriage certificate _yesterday_ ,” he said casually, making sure his ID was close enough for her to read.

Taking the hint, the intern nodded and rifled through a few folders before pulling out the certificate, shakily handing it over with two pens. Tony flashed his trademark smile as he and Steve filled it out together, unable to help giggling like they were about to get caught. Once they pushed it back to the intern, she stumbled off, presumably to go have it approved.

“We’re getting _married_ ,” Tony stage-whispered to Steve, ignoring the staring around them as he slotted himself up against Steve’s chest, “God, at least we didn’t have to argue about taking each other’s names—”

“It was always going to be Stark-Rogers. I should see if I have my old middle school composition books, I know one is just full of doodles of _Steve Stark-Rogers_ with hearts around it.”

“Awe, baby, you had a crush on me?”

Steve clicked his tongue, making Tony laugh and lean up on his toes for another kiss. He was happy to stand there and make out with his momentary-fiancé, but Steve’s embarrassment from the public show kept him in check, merely peppering the man’s face with small, thankful kisses.

“I don’t want you to go,” he eventually whispered sadly, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from crying in front of strangers in an isolated area.

“I know, sweetheart. I know,” Steve murmured back, hugging Tony close with one hand on the back of his neck, “It’ll all be okay, you’ll see. You’ll be so busy making friends and changing the world that you’ll barely have time to miss your trophy husband.”

“Oh, _you’re_ the trophy?”

They playfully bickered back-and-forth until their names were called, causing Tony to go ramrod straight with anxiety. Steve smiled comfortingly and cupped his cheek, giving him one last peck on the lips before guiding him back to the desk where the intern was shifting on her foot. She muttered something that sounded like “congratulations” before shoving the paper into Tony’s hand, clearly not intending to continue the conversation any further. The paper shook until Steve held onto the other side, forcing them to tilt their heads together to read it.

“There it is, baby,” Tony managed, inwardly cursing the tears blurring his vision, “We’re hitched, its New York official—Wait, fuck, I need to get you a ring too—”

“Well, we’ve got a few weeks to find one. And to decide if we want to keep this as our secret. If we do, I’ll have to break out my dog tag chains for you to wear,” Steve said, slipping a hand onto Tony’s hip to squeeze lightly, “Ready?”

“ _No_.”

The confession startled them both, but Steve quickly recovered and nodded, kissing Tony’s forehead as he took his hand to lead him outside. They found a secluded park bench and sat, Tony immediately choosing to sit in Steve’s lap.

“Was it—”

“No,” Tony interrupted, resting his head on Steve’s shoulder, “Marriage is good. I want this, I want _you_ —I just don’t want you to go. What—what if you don’t come back? It feels like I just got you and then you’re going to be gone and you might be gone _forever—_ ”

Steve tried to console him, but the sobs were already in his mouth, his shoulders shaking as he cried onto Steve’s tux. He clutched at Steve, sitting up when it became too much and he could barely breathe. The anxiety was clawing its way up his throat, reminding him of the first few days in therapy, when all he could do was count his breaths. The dark spots told him he wasn’t getting enough air, and he tried to covey this to Steve, but soon gentle lips were against his own, soft and pliant under him. On instinct he kissed back, drawing in ragged breaths when Steve took seconds here and there to pull away.

“That’s it. Nice and easy, just like you learned,” Steve whispered between kisses, smiling when the hands on his shirt started to relax their grip, “You’re doing so well, sweetie. I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.”

The arms around him were strong, solid, comfortable; Tony buried himself in Steve’s chest and savored the feeling, only to squeak in surprise when he was lifted up, instinctively wrapping his legs around Steve’s waist.

“Hey!” he complained, already feeling embarrassed, “I can walk!”

“I know you can. I want to carry you,” Steve murmured into his ear, “Don’t worry. Nobody cares anyway, and I’ll even walk in the alley so you don’t feel so exposed. Okay? Let me do this for you.”

He wanted to protest, but Steve was warm, and the emotions rolling through his gut told him to stay put. Instead of gracing Steve with an answer, he instead plopped his head back down onto his _husband’s_ shoulder, allowing himself to fall asleep while breathing in Steve’s cologne.

* * *

 

_Six Years Later._

Looking down at the compass in his hand, Steve grimaced, watching the needle idly spin. Since the device moved according to the Earth’s magnetism, it should be still, not constantly moving in circles. Something was going on in the desert, which is why he and his Special Ops team had been assigned to this area six years ago. There was no real telling as to why the needle spun; some days, it was still and pointed to true north, but other days like today, the needle lazily spun as if he’d flicked it with his finger.

“Captain?”

Steve turned and stuffed the compass into his utility belt, nodding at his Lieutenant who had poked his head into his tent.

“Still no word on the satellite phone, Steve. Should I keep attempting to contact the civilian?”

“No, Buck, that’s alright,” he said, “I’ll try later myself. Thanks.”

Once Bucky gave him a look and left, Steve sat down on his cot and ran a gloved hand through his hair, considering using his personal phone to call Tony. It was almost their anniversary, and since he was going out on a drive for the next week, he wanted to talk in case the phones went offline. However, Tony had told him he’d been busy recently, especially with now having Howard’s company on his shoulders.

_God, that was awful._

In the past year, Steve had used up all his leave time to be with Tony in the wake of his parents’ deaths, being more of a comfort over one parent than the other. Tony had been a wreck, but in front of the public he was blank, the latter of which concerned him more. He’d stayed as long as he could before he was called back to the field, where he was willingly putting himself in harm's way because he and Bucky had allowed the government to experiment on them when they needed the money and Steve had been at his lowest.

Oh, yeah.

That.

That thing which he still hasn’t told Tony about. That huge secret that Steve had been hiding and instead covered up because Bucky had told Tony they’d beefed up at boot camp. Technically, it was true, but Tony had just been in the hospital, and he hadn’t been sure how Tony would have taken the news. Past that, there was always another reason to delay it, especially when he was busy in the field, taking more bullets than humanly possible and still coming out on the other side.

_Don’t think about that. You’ll tell him once your service is up. You owe him that. He loves you. He’ll understand._

Before he could sink into anymore self-loathing, Bucky popped back in, waving his satellite phone.

“We have a call. Director says to saddle up,” he said, holding the tent flap open for Steve.

“What are we looking at?” he asked as he donned his helmet, doing up the straps under his chin.

“American civilian was captured by Afghani terrorists, not far from our location. They wouldn’t tell us who, but its someone with enough money to send us in,” Bucky sighed, “They said it looked like an easy in-and-out, and it’d be good press for the Army.”

“Couldn’t they just send in the Chair Force?” Steve said, earning a laugh from his best friend, “Alright, let’s go do some rescue. Jeeps ready?”

“Just waiting on you, Cap.”

Steve snorted at the nickname, shouldering his assault rifle as he followed Bucky to their jeep, taking the passenger side as Bucky roared out of the compound, their team members not far behind. They sped off into the desert, joking to each other on the way as they skimmed up and down dunes. As they started to converge on the location, a large explosion rocked the car, making Steve shout a curse as they all watched smoke and fire billow up out of the horizon. Bucky put the pedal to the metal and shifted into the top gear, pushing the car as fast as it could go toward the site. They’d barely skimmed 100 miles per hour when he slammed on the brakes.

“Bogey! One o’clock!” Steve yelled into the radio, watching something large shoot up out of the smoke and sail toward them.

Bucky shoved him, getting the message to Steve as they abandoned the vehicle and took up positions, keeping aim on the object. As it got closer, Steve began to see what it was and held up a fist.

“Hold your fire! It’s—It looks—” his words died out as the object crashed barely 200 feet in front of them, shrapnel and sand flying up.

Steve coughed and waved his hand, trying to clear the cloud as he started to creep closer to the wreckage. He could feel Bucky a few steps behind him, but once he was upon the object, he drew a sharp breath.

“We need medevac,” he said to Bucky, slinging his rifle over his shoulder, “Radio it in, keep the others away. They—They don’t need to see this.”

Whatever it was, it was bloody. Steve wrenched off what looked like the chest plate in the hopes of getting a pulse, only to gasp at the sight in front of him. An object was embedded in the man’s chest, glowing brightly within the tendrils of scar tissue. Bloodied bandaging covered the skin; Steve feared the worst, but a small hiss of air alerted him to the fact that whoever this was, they were not only alive, but were _awake,_ and probably in a hell of a lot of pain.

“Sir? Can you hear me? This is Captain Steve Stark-Rogers. I’m here to help you. A medical chopper has been ca—”

The routine speech died on his lips once he worked off the helmet.

Unfocused, familiar brown eyes blinked back at him, confused and concussed, given the pupil dilation.

_No, no no no, anything but this—_

“Steve?” Tony rasped, licking his bloodied lips before coughing and wheezing in pain, only able to manage one more sentence before passing out:

“Is it really you?”


End file.
